The Mystery Of The Missing CO2
by Frottola
Summary: A tale of twists and turns. Nothing is what it seems. Mainly a crime drama, but with a few Sherlolly moments to come.
1. Chapter One: Carnage

**Chapter One: Carnage**

**A/N: **There are two of us writing this fanfiction and it is our first one, so please be nice! :)

**Disclaimer: **We own this story but not Sherlock, or any of the other characters.

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><p>"It just doesn't make sense," Sherlock muttered, as he paced around the lab. "Random. Unrelated. The victims never met. Why are they being targeted? Why?"<p>

"Let's just try and think this through logically shall we Sherlock," John said in a futile attempt to calm his friend.

"We? Let's just leave the 'logical' thinking to me, John," Sherlock replied curtly.

"Now, there is no need to get angry," John responded.

"Incorrect. If ever there was a time to get angry it's now," Sherlock snapped. "John, I am the world's only consulting detective. I've solved every case Lestrade has ever given me without fail. Until now; this is the first one that's made absolutely no sense."

"Maybe you're looking at this from the wrong angle," John suggested tentatively, which earned him a glare from Sherlock.

"Perhaps these five bodies aren't connected at all; they led completely separate lives," John continued. "They never shared any contact, the only thing they had in common was that they were all trying to give up smoking. Probably as a News Year's resolution, like a million other smokers in this country."

Sherlock rolled his eyes at John. "Don't be absurd John; I'm really not in the mood for your stupidity at the moment. Of course they are connected. The cause of death is too specific, these people have been targeted. I just don't know why."

"What if someone in the factory accidentally increased the nicotine concentration in the patches?" John offered.

"Not possible John. The quality control in these places is scrupulous, and besides, the patches were all from different batches."

"Oh right, yeah of course," he said as his gaze dropped to the ground.

"Each and every one of them died of an overdose of nicotine. This was unique. The murderer clearly wanted attention. But why did he kill these people specifically?" Sherlock drummed his fingers against the table, before letting out a sudden cry of exasperation and throwing his arms in the air like a child. His left hand collided with a microscope sitting dangerously close to the edge of the worktop, and sent it crashing onto the floor, hitting John's foot on the way down.

Sherlock ignored John's yelp of pain and rushed to save the blood sample he had been analysing, but he was too late as the slide had smashed.

He let out a frustrated sigh, and hastily pulled out his phone to call Molly. Meanwhile John was attempting to clean up his bleeding foot and cursing Sherlock for his insensitivity.

"Do stop making a fuss John, I need to talk to Molly," Sherlock chastised.

"To ask for bandages for my foot I hope? There's got to be a first aid kit somewhere in this lab!" John said looking around frantically. "Sherlock, do you know where it would be?"

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><p>The security guard observed his target struggling to balance three cups of piping hot coffee whilst pressing the button to call the lift. He studied the picture in his hand. 'That's her,' he whispered to himself, and began inputting the code that he had been given by that strange man who had offered him so much money to carry this out. He finished the code hastily, and turned to his colleague behind him. "What are you laughing at Kenneth?" he asked, intrigued.<p>

"Come over here, you have to watch this video!" Kenneth chuckled. The guard went over, averting his attention from the security camera image that showed his target entering the lift.

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><p>Molly stood by the entrance to the lift, attempting to push the button with her elbow as so not to spill the coffee Sherlock had demanded she bring him. The lift doors opened and she greeted Stamford as he got out. She stepped inside and as the doors began to close her phone started to ring. Molly sighed as she realised it was impossible for her to reach her phone. Stamford stopped and held the doors open, kindly offering to hold the coffees while she answered.<p>

"Oh hi Sherlock, is everything OK?"

"Ah, Molly," Sherlock greeted. "I'm going to need you to pop back to the morgue and fetch me another blood sample from victim number four."

"Ask her for bandages," John interjected, but his words fell on deaf ears.

"In fact get more blood samples from all of the victims as there are several more tests I could run on them," he asked.

"But that would mean going all the way downstairs. I mean…not that I mind, it's just your coffee would get cold," Molly tried to explain, while Stamford waited patiently against the open lift doors.

"I don't care about the coffee Molly, just bring the blood!" Sherlock said shortly, growing too frustrated to keep speaking in his persuasive tone that he knew could work wonders on Molly.

"Oh, ok then," she said sounding obviously disappointed. "What shall I do with it then? I mean…shall I just pour it down the sink. Or maybe I could reheat it for you…you know, if you like."

"Can I help Molly?" Stamford asked recognising the tone of distress in Molly's voice.

"Oh, it's just Sherlock, he wants me to get him some blood samples, but I don't know what to with this coffee," Molly explained, whilst holding a hand over the speaker of her phone.

"I don't mind taking them up to your lab for you," Stamford offered.

"Oh no, I didn't mean… it's fine, I can manage…" Molly stuttered, blushing.

"No Molly, I insist," he said stepping back into the lift and ushering her out. "Go and get your samples, I'll take care of the coffee."

"Oh Ok," Molly accepted, not having time to protest. She smiled at Stamford as the lift doors closed and then resumed her conversation with Sherlock.

"Molly, are you still there? I said I don't care about the damn coffee," Sherlock shouted down the receiver, shocking Molly as she returned the phone to her ear.

"Oh, yes. I'm…um I'm here Sherlock. I'm sorry…I was just talking to…" Molly began to explain before Sherlock interrupted her.

"At this moment in time I really cannot stomach your stammering so if we could just end this conversation now, you can go and get me those samples and I can get on," he said.

John then let out a wail of pain as he pulled a particularly large shard of glass from his toe, which Molly heard clearly on the other end of the phone.

"Oh My Gosh! Was that you Sherlock? Are you ok?" she worried, picturing Sherlock in pain.

"No, it was John. He's overreacting like the drama queen he is. However I am far from ok because I can't hear you walking in the direction of the morgue, so won't you get a move on," Sherlock hissed.

"Ok, I'm leaving now, but is John alright?"

"Yes, yes he's fine; he's just making fuss because I'm not paying him enough attention."

"And because you threw a tantrum and a microscope fell on my foot," John called out in the background, to which Molly reacted with a horrified gasp.

"Oh My God! Poor John, shall I fetch some bandages or something?" Molly asked.

"No. Just. Get. Me. The. Samples," Sherlock ordered before abruptly hanging up and slamming his phone onto the work surface.

"So is she going to get me a first aid kit or something then?" John asked hopefully.

Sherlock did not respond; instead he stormed over to the fume cupboard and wedged his head into the gap.

"Sherlock, what the hell are you doing?" John asked confused.

"Attempting to gas myself so I don't have to listen to your whining for a moment longer," he retorted whilst inhaling from a bottle of clear liquid deeply, which John noted had a toxic sign on it.

John sighed and then hopped across the lab to where the fume cupboard stood and began tugging Sherlock's arm to pull him away. However, in doing so, his injured foot hit the floor, causing John to jolt back in pain, taking Sherlock with him so his head hit the glass with an audible thud. The look of pure anger in Sherlock's eyes caused John to retreat away from him.

"Sherlock, I'm so sorry," John began to apologise whilst stifling a laugh. Sherlock of course noticed this and was about to launch a particularly scathing verbal attack on John but was interrupted by a bumbling Molly who then stumbled through the door, arms full of various medical supplies.

"I didn't know what the injury was like exactly so I just brought everything. I hope you don't mind…I'm sure there's something here that will help."

"Samples?" Sherlock requested impatiently, immediately forgetting about his sore head and refocusing on the task in hand.

"Oh, yeah they're here somewhere…I think... I mean I definitely picked them up. They're in my pocket I think," Molly said as she reached for them, completely forgetting that her arms were full of bandages, which tumbled to the floor. "Oh no!" she cried. "I'm such a klutz! I better pick these up so we can get you sorted, John."

Unable to bare her idiotic, time-wasting behaviour anymore, Sherlock thrust his hand into the pocket of her lab coat to extract the bottles of blood, brushing her thigh as he did so. Molly's face instantly blushed red in response to his touch and she began mumbling inconspicuously.

John's foot was throbbing and he didn't want to hassle Molly in her state of embarrassment, so he began trying to pick some of the bandages from off floor but he was unsteady on his one foot and consequently plunged forward towards Molly, so that they both fell to the ground, John's face landing straight onto her chest.

Instead of going over to help the pair of them, Sherlock merely glanced up from the samples briefly to remark: "Well John, it's a shame you couldn't have chosen someone a little more voluptuous to cushion your fall."

Molly's eyes glazed over in response to his cruel words. She pushed John off of her, then hurriedly stood up and rushed out of the room.

Two minutes later, after rolling around on the floor, John eventually managed to stand up and began hobbling towards the door after Molly, though when he finally reached the exit, she suddenly appeared in front of him.

"The lift wouldn't come," she mumbled. "And I couldn't face walking down nine flights of stairs."

Her sudden appearance in the doorway caused John to stumble backwards in surprise. He would have fallen again if weren't for Sherlock, who quickly caught him from behind.

"Thanks Sherlock," John said gratefully. "You do care after all then."

"No, I do not care for your idiotic display. However I couldn't bear to watch another scene of carnage that could easily have been taken straight from a _Carry On_ film," Sherlock bit back.

"Oh, right I see, well thanks anyway," he murmured.

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><p>Sherlock, fixated on the case that was still troubling him, ended up staying in the lab for the whole night, analysing the samples over and over again, frequently visiting his mind palace as he did so. John and Molly dutifully remained with him; John due to the fact that he couldn't walk without assistance even after Molly had finally bandaged up his foot for him, and Molly because she could never resist Sherlock when he asked for her help, which he required often that evening.<p>

By the morning, Sherlock had finally had his 'eureka' moment when he concluded, "There is no connection. I have explored every possible option and it is clear that there is no link between the victims."

John listened to Sherlock's explanation and repressed to the urge to comment 'I told you so'.

"The killer just killed to kill. It was all just for attention, most probably my attention. I think I know exactly who's done this…." Sherlock trailed off before suddenly commanding: "Right John, let's go home."

John looked up in surprise and asked: "Who did it then? Don't you want to catch them?"

"Never you mind John. And I will, when the time is right," Sherlock explained elusively as ever, before heading towards the exit.

Sherlock hurried out of the lab and pressed the button for the lift, leaving Molly to assist John out the room. By the time the two of them finally reached the corridor, the lift still hadn't arrived and Sherlock quickly grew impatient with it; repeatedly punching the button.

"Oh will it still not come?" Molly asked, wishing she hadn't as soon as the words escaped from her mouth.

"No Molly, I'm just aggressively pressing this button to make a tune," he spat out sarcastically. After a minute more of waiting, Sherlock made a decision. "Well, it's clearly broken so we'll have to take this stairs," and began walking away but then halted when he realised John wasn't in tow.

"Sherlock, my foot," John said, pointing down at his injured limb.

"What about it?" Sherlock asked.

"I don't think I can quite manage nine flights of stairs," he explained, which evoked a sigh from Sherlock.

He then turned to Molly and said: "Well, what are you waiting for? Call the maintenance department so we can get out of here."

"Oh. Oh Right. Of course. Um yeah…I'll do that right away," Molly stuttered apologetically and then reached for her phone before remembering that she was holding John up.

"Um Sherlock," she began.

"What Molly?"

"Could you maybe let John hold onto you for a moment?"

Sherlock let out another deep sigh but obliged nonetheless and Molly proceeded to dial the number for maintenance.

30 minutes later-during which time, John had fallen over once more, Sherlock had punched a wall and then proceeded to reduce Molly to tears-a maintenance worker finally arrived at the scene, immediately sensing tension within the group.

Sherlock didn't bother with pleasantries but instead just pointed at the lift and ordered: "Fix it!"

The worker shot him an angry glance but proceeded with the job anyway, and the four of them remained silent as he worked. Eventually, the man was able to ply the doors open to reveal a sight that made Sherlock's eyes suddenly light up with delight; for it was a scene of a crime. He studied the corpse that lay slumped on the lift floor littered with three polystyrene coffee cups.

"A new case!" he exclaimed excitedly.


	2. Chapter Two: Aftermath

**Chapter Two: Aftermath**

**Disclaimer: **We own nothing apart from the character of Leah Conrad.

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><p>Leah stared blankly at the computer screen in front of her. She didn't care for the global warming activity that she had been told to endure by her biology teacher. She especially didn't care for the Snab website that it featured on. Eventually she gave in and slammed her laptop shut in despair, no longer able to stomach revising for the ridiculous module on a topic that she already knew more about than the apparently intellectually-challenged people who had constructed the Edexcel A2 course.<p>

She was right. She did know more than them. In fact, Leah Conrad knew more than most.

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><p>Sherlock dove straight in, prodding at the body, a calculating expression on his face as he deduced the cause of death.<p>

After the maintenance man finally got over the shock of seeing the dead body and regained his composure, he managed to mutter: "Are you sure…th…that you should you be…you know, tampering with the evidence like that, Sir?"

"Quite sure," Sherlock shot back.

"Oh…are you with the…er…the Old Bill then, eh?"

"I am most certainly not. And I'd really appreciate it if you could stop talking all together and leave the stuttering to Molly, here," Sherlock said as he turned to face her. "Fetch me lime water, Molly. Do hurry."

"Oh…ok, right away," she obliged, while moving John over to rest on the wall.

"I'll call Lestrade and explain the situation, shall I?" John offered.

"I'd rather you didn't but I understand that is the usual protocol so you can go ahead if you insist. Just as long as he doesn't bring along Anderson; one non-functioning brain is more than enough in this lift," Sherlock replied.

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><p>"No you hang up, Carol," Lestrade insisted in an uncharacteristically flirtatious tone to the woman on the receiving end of his phonecall. "No, really, I've got to go, so you hang up."<p>

"How I about I hang up for you!" Donavan exclaimed as she burst into her boss's office.

"Donavan! What do you think you're doing? Get out now. I'm in the middle of a personal conversation." Lestrade `shouted at his officer.

"Oh Greg, I love it when you get angry!" Carol said to him, provoking a giggle from Lestrade, distracting his attention away from Donavan.

"Sir! Sir!" Sally tried to get his focus back on her.

"What, Donavan? I thought I told you to leave!" Lestrade scolded her, eager to get back to Carol.

"John Watson is on the other line; he and his freaky friend are at St. Bart's, and they've found a dead body," she explained.

"A dead body? At a hospital? No! Don't tell me, they've walked into the morgue?" Lestrade said wide-eyed, his voice dripping with sarcasm mainly for Carol's entertainment, who was in hysterics.

"No Sir, it's Stamford Sir, he's been found dead in the lift."

Lestrade's face fell as he took in Sally's words. He was silent for some time before suddenly remembering his phonecall: "Look, Carol, something serious has come up, I've got to go," he explained, hanging up before she even had a chance to reply.

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><p>Lestrade practically sprinted up the stairs to the floor of the crime scene at St. Bart's, with Anderson and Donavan lagging behind in tow.<p>

When he reached the lift, he stopped abruptly, taking in the sight, unable to mask his horror. "I can't believe it. Mike! How? Why? What…" he started.

"Asphyxiation," Sherlock cut in, beginning his explanation. "He was trapped in the lift with a canister containing what he assumed to be oxygen gas, seeing as this would not seem out of place in hospital. When in actual fact it contained liquid carbon dioxide, most likely to be used to cool the machinery underground. He made the unfortunate and quite frankly foolish mistake of stepping into the lift with it. The lift stopped and he was trapped inside with it overnight, which was more than enough time for the carbon dioxide to escape as gas. As more and more CO2 escaped, the less oxygen there was available. Eventually, the oxygen concentration in the lift dropped so low that he was unable to breathe at all."

Sherlock looked round to see the same shocked expression on each of his audience members' faces.

"So, why didn't he…" Anderson began to question.

"Call for help?" Sherlock finished the question for him, and then proceeded to answer: "Well, he did, obviously, as is apparent by his handprints on the SOS phone. But whoever received his phonecall didn't want to help him. Or more likely, the phone connection had been disabled."

"So, this was intentional?" Donavan asked.

"Very good Donavan, you're improving every time!" Sherlock remarked.

She simply rolled her eyes; used to his incessant put-downs.

"So, who wanted to kill him? I mean, who would want to kill someone like Mike?" Lestrade asked, still trying to wrap his head around the situation.

"Nobody," Sherlock answered.

"Care to explain a little further," Anderson pushed.

"Oh yes, of course. My apologies, I do sometimes need to be reminded just how stupid you really are!" Sherlock said with a smirk.

"Oh, for God's sake!" Lestrade suddenly exploded. "Enough of your playground banter, Sherlock. Stamford was my friend, and a bloody good one too, so just tell me what the hell happened to him."

Sherlock was put out, but did as he was told nonetheless due to his undeniable respect and admiration for Lestrade. "The killer was in fact after Molly," he stated, ignoring the gasp that came from the girl in question. "As you can see from the cups and spilt coffee, Stamford was in fact on his way up to give us our drinks. Drinks which Molly had got, and was on her way up with, before she stepped out of the lift to retrieve a blood sample at my request and handed the coffees to Stamford, who had offered to bring them up."

"So, it was a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time," the maintenance man added, whose presence had been forgotten until that moment.

"And who the bloody hell are you?" Lestrade asked, his head snapping round to face the unfamiliar man.

"I was called up to open the lift," he explained apologetically.

"Oh, right, well in that case you'll need to stick around so we can get a statement from you," Lestrade said.

"Sir," Anderson interjected.

"Sure, go ahead," Lestrade said with a nod, allowing his forensics officer to begin an examination.

Sherlock merely tutted as Anderson stepped into the lift, holding back from delivering any scathing insults as to not upset Lestrade further. He walked away in an attempt to distract himself from noticing everything Anderson was doing wrong, which happened to be everything.

When Sherlock left the lift, he could hear the sound of sobbing, which he instantly recognised as coming from Molly. He turned to see her in the corner, being consoled by John, who had one hand pressed against the wall to keep him upright, and the other, delicately patting Molly's back. Sherlock chose to ignore the situation; crying was pointless he had concluded long ago, because sadness was pointless, as were all emotions for the matter, in his opinion.

"It's…all…my…fault," Molly said, stuttering not because of Sherlock this time, but due to her tears. "I should…I should…have been the one…the one in the lift. I should have…died!"

"No! Don't be silly. This was not your fault at all. If anyone, it was Sherlock's!" John tried to console Molly, but it only made her wail louder.

"I shouldn't have let…let him take the coffee…why did I let him?" she cried out, through her sobs.

"Because he offered! You mustn't blame yourself Molly, what happened was a product of chance," John told her. He received no reply; just more tears.

"Donavan, get down to security and look at the CCTV footage from the lift last night and try and get a recording from the phonecall, if there was one," Lestrade ordered, and she immediately obeyed; turning on her heel and starting in the direction of the stairs. Lestrade then turned to Sherlock and asked: "Do you think the killer will try a second hit on Molly?"

"It's quite possible," Sherlock said, matter-of-factly, but Lestrade could make out the concern hidden in his voice, which he chose not to mention.

"Well then, we better catch this bastard as soon as we can," Lestrade told him decisively.

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><p><strong>AN: **The first section of this chapter may seem somewhat irrelevant but we promise it's not, and everything will be pieced together eventually! The references to biology revision were put in because it was our own revision that gave us inspiration for this fic. And Edexcel, we love you really! ;)

Pleeeeease review, it would mean a lot to us to know what you think of our story!


	3. Chapter Three: Demand

**Chapter Three: Demand**

**A/N: **We forgot to mention it before, but this story is set about a year after The Reichenbach Fall, long after Sherlock has come out of hiding and John has discovered the truth behind the event.

**Disclaimer: **Sadly we still don't own anything. Oh well, never mind!

"That's a very serious accusation Leah," the school counsellor said, horrified.

"Yes I'm aware of that," Leah replied curtly.

"So let me get this straight. Your chemistry teacher has been sexually harassing you on a regular basis for the past few months?"

"Yes that is what I just told you," Leah responded in a mocking tone. "I gather you don't believe me, why is that?"

"Well, it's just that, since our last session, I've been looking over your school records from the past six years and it would seem that your disruptive and erratic behaviour suggests that you are somewhat psychologically damaged," she explained.

"What has led you to make this conclusion?" Leah questioned.

"You have a reputation for lying and attention- seeking. For example, in year 9 you accused your fellow classmate of trying to choke you with a paintbrush in an Art lesson. You persisted in lying and the police were even forced to get involved at one point. You refused to admit you were lying for weeks and weeks, insisting that you needed to get revenge on the classmate in question and got all of your other peers to turn against him until he was eventually forced to move schools. It was only after this that you boasted to your friends that you had been joking all along. There have been a number of similar incidences like this over the years, all of which should have led to your expulsion. However, each time you were saved by your academic abilities, as you knew you would be. This behaviour strikes me as being alarming, would you not agree?"

Leah paused for a second, deliberating over what the counsellor had just said, before adding: "Ahh yes, I see, well that explains your cynicism. So you leave me with only one option and that is to prove to you that this is not in fact a fictional tale, and that is what I shall do. Soon." Leah stood up as soon as she'd finished speaking and left the office somewhat dramatically.

"What a disturbing little girl," the counsellor muttered to herself as she closed the ever expanding file labelled 'Leah Conrad'.

Sally burst into Lestrade's office, rudely interrupting another of his personal phone calls.

"Oh I know what you mean. I'm having a nightmare of a day too," he said as he glared at Donavan and held up his hand gesturing her to wait for him to finish his conversation.

"How about we go out this evening to get away from it all? I'll take you to that place you like," Lestrade suggested and then waited for her reply before confirming, "Yeah; I'll come and pick you up at seven. Wear something nice. Yeah, the red one preferably. Ok, see you then, I look forward to it Carol." He hung up the phone, grinning like a love-struck teenager.

Donavan resisted the urge to start retching, and instead delivered her news to him.

"I've got the transcript of the audio message from the lift here. You are going to want to read this," she told him as she handed him a copy.

Lestrade's eyes eagerly scanned over the words on the sheet of paper in front of him.

_You have reached the maintenance department of St. Bartholomew's hospital, what seems to be the problem with the lift? _

_Only kidding, I already know what the problem is and I don't want to help you. Because you have been a naughty girl haven't you Miss Hooper? Helping a certain Mr Holmes get out of his dilemma. It would seem that I made a little error in thinking that you didn't count. Now I know you do count, I of course only have one course of action to pursue. I'm going to have to kill you. Obviously. Sherlock might even cry when he finds you. Oh, I do hope so, that would be brilliant. Anyway, bye for now. Well, bye forever actually._

"Wow," Lestrade said as he sat back in his chair and dropped the transcript onto the desk. "So Sherlock was right about the intended target being Molly then?"

"Yes, he was right, of course. He's always bloody right," Donavan added bitterly.

"Oh you do so flatter me, Donavan," Sherlock said gleefully as he joined the pair of them in the office.

"So, are you going to read the transcript then, or have you already worked out what it says word-for-word just from feeling the sound vibrations in the lift?" Donavan asked Sherlock sarcastically.

"No, as that is not a scientifically feasible method, Sally, not to mention the inaccuracies if it were. Someone wasn't listening in their Key Stage 3 Physics classes, I see. So, why don't you run along now and leave the grown-ups to get to get on with their work," Sherlock practically hissed at her.

Sally stood in the doorway, scowling at him, desperately trying to think of a witty comeback, until she was eventually dismissed by Lestrade, and stormed angrily out of the office.

"These appear to be Moriarty's words," Sherlock commented as he read the transcript.

"Hmmm," Lestrade hummed agreement. "But of course it can't be him because he's dead. So we're looking for who? An impersonator of some sort I guess."

Sherlock said nothing in response.

"Someone wants to continue on the legacy of your nemesis. An heir perhaps? Did he ever have an accomplice of some sort?" Lestrade wondered.

"No," Sherlock answered abruptly. "I need to listen to the authentic audio message."

"Right, yeah, I'll get Donavan on it," Lestrade confirmed, as he rose from his chair and headed out the room, Sherlock striding on ahead in front of him.

"Donavan!" Lestrade boomed. "We need to listen to the audio message."

"Yeah, OK," she told them, handing them headphones and opening the relevant file on her computer. "We've tried voice recognition but the message was too encrypted for any matches to be found. All we can work out is that it was a real voice; not computer generated, and the voice was of a young female, around late teens possibly early twenties."

"This could be anyone. Just a random girl off the street, paid by someone else to carry out the task," Lestrade suggested as he listened to the recorded message.

"No," Sherlock immediately dismissed the idea. "Nothing and nobody is random."

"So, she was chosen for a reason. But why her?" Lestrade asked his consulting detective.

"Because she was the perfect candidate," Sherlock revealed cryptically.

Before Lestrade could probe him any further, Sally handed Lestrade a phone. "Sir, I've got The Freak's brother on the line. It sounds urgent."

"Doesn't everything," Lestrade muttered before taking the call. "Mr Holmes, how can I be of assistance?"

"Bring my brother, yourself, and minimal colleagues," Mycroft ordered, pausing briefly before adding, "Only those who you implicitly trust. Come down to my office in Whitehall, immediately if you would be so kind."

"Well, the things is, Mr Holmes, we're a bit busy here at Scotland Yard at the moment as the dead body of a friend of mine has recently been found murdered by a Moriarty impersonator," Lestrade explained.

"Yes, I have something for you to see in relation to your current case. Get here as soon as possible. That will be all," Mycroft told him and then hung up immediately, leaving a confused Lestrade frowning at the phone in his hand.

"Well, what did he want? I'm surprised he phoned you as he usually pesters John," Sherlock asked, whilst absent-mindedly wondering where his sidekick had got to.

"He's got something that he needs to show us that is connected to the case. He sounded almost…panicked," Lestrade told him.

"Panicked? Well this is a new emotion from Brother Dearest. I'd like to see this one. Chop, chop, Lestrade, let's head off. I'll follow you in cab," Sherlock dictated.

"Yes of course Mr Holmes, anything for you Mr Holmes. How high shall I jump Mr Holmes?" Lestrade muttered to Sherlock's back. "Come on Donavan, let's get going," he then ordered, and Sally sighed at the prospect of seeing Mycroft.

"It's so kind of you to stay with me John…don't feel you have to though...it's fine. I know you would rather be with Sherlock instead of comforting silly old me here at my flat" Molly said as she grasped the cup of tea that John had dutifully made her.

"Oh no, it's fine Molly. You know I don't mind. Besides Sherlock can do without me this one time, I'm injured anyway remember!" he said smiling at her and pointed at his bandaged foot.

"You're so kind John, Claire is so lucky to have you,"

"More like I'm lucky to have her. I still can't believe she's stuck around for as long as she has to be honest."

"So is it going well with you two then?" Molly asked.

"Yeah it is. It's still relatively early days though. We've only been on a few dates."

"So what does Sherlock think about it?"

"You know Sherlock, he hasn't even noticed yet!" John said laughing, although Molly sensed he was secretly hurt by this.

"Typical Sherlock! He does care really John, you know he does,"

"Oh I know. I know he does really. He's just a bit crap at showing it. He cares about you too Molly" John reassured her.

"I'm not so sure about that. He thinks I'm a bumbling idiot most of the time," she said cringing as she remembered some of the stupid things she had said to him recently.

"He must think something of you for him to have entrusted you with the task of helping to save his life."

"Hmmm," he agreed half-heartedly. She had tried to convince herself of this many times before but still struggled to believe it as she couldn't get rid of the underlying concern of hers that he was just using her as he had a tendency to do so often.

Lestrade bounded past security, flashing his police badge as he did so. When he, Sherlock and Donavan entered Mycroft's elaborate office, they found him staring coldly at the computer screen of him. His eyes were unblinking, his limbs were unmoving, and he appeared almost shell-shocked.

"Is he alright?" Lestrade whispered worriedly to Sherlock, though the answer came from Mycroft himself.

"No, Detective Inspector, I'm afraid I am not. I have received a rather worrying message, which you shall read. But you must understand that what you see must not go beyond this little circle we have here. I am asking you to solve this case, without intervention from anyone else, whether they are in parliament or working for our security services. It is of paramount importance that what you are about to read is kept secret, for if the public were to get wind of this, then it would cause widespread chaos, and dare I say it, possibly the collapse of our government," Mycroft told them gravely.

"Oh, do stop being so dramatic Mycroft. Building suspense is an unnecessary waste of time if this message really is as important as you say," Sherlock chastised his brother, as he strode over to where Mycroft was sat and began reading from the computer screen. Lestrade and Donavan followed closely behind him.

_Hello there dear Mycroft, _

_I do hope you are well. I wonder if you have been in contact with your brother lately. You might want to give him a bell after you've read this. For, at this moment in time he is looking into a case involving the death of a friend of his who was recently killed by asphyxiation from carbon dioxide. Hey, 'death by carbon dioxide' has somewhat of a ring to it don't you think? Anyway, there's a lot more of that pesky little greenhouse gas just waiting to be released. All that CO2 which appears to be missing, well guess what? It's not. I know exactly where it is being stored. But I will be forced to release it from storage and into our wonderful British atmosphere, if you do not meet my request. Millions and millions of tonnes of the stuff will go floating up into the troposphere, setting those Kyoto Protocol targets of yours way back. In fact, it will probably reverse all the improvements you've made over the past ten years and even speed up global warming. All the other Western countries are going to hate us! Relations will fall apart and poor old England will be the subject of international bullying for years and years to come. And we don't want that to happen, do we? _

_No, we don't._

_That is why you're going to hand Sherlock over to me. _

_I'll be in touch again shortly with more details. Look forward to it._

_Much love x_

**A/N:** Just so you know, there is in fact a mystery of missing carbon dioxide in that the figures regarding emissions do not add up. Less carbon dioxide is released each year than would be expected from the amount of fossil fuel combustion and deforestation that takes place. This prompted us to wonder about the possibility of someone harbouring this missing gas, which led to the plot in this fic. Hope you like the idea.

Please review as it would mean so much if you did. xxx


	4. Chapter Four: Realisation

**Chapter Four: Realisation**

**A/N: **Sorry we haven't updated in a while, we've had quite a lot going on in our social lives. We saw Project X this weekend, it's hilarious! Everyone should go and watch it! Anyway here is the next chapter, hope you like it.

**Disclaimer: **We are not Godtiss, but imagine if he did write fanfiction though…

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><p>"Sorry, I've got to go; someone's just come in. I'll talk to you later, I promise," the counsellor said, before turning to face the girl who had just burst into her office. "Leah, this is a surprise! Could you knock next time, please."<p>

"I'm sorry, it's just…" Leah began to explain before bursting into tears.

"Now Leah, you can't just come in here and think your crocodile tears are going to work on me. I'm a very busy woman you know, and I could really do without you wasting my time like this," she said, irritated that her phonecall had been cut short by her least favourite student.

"I'm not wasting your time because I'm not lying. I'm telling the truth! He…he just… touched me!" She whispered out the last two words, barely able to say them.

"Leah, if you are lying this is an extremely serious accusation," the counsellor warned, though she was beginning to wonder if there was perhaps some truth in the girl's claim about her teacher.

"Look I know that I've told lies in the past, and I can understand your scepticism, but I really am telling the truth this time, and I've never needed anyone to believe me more than I do now."

"OK Leah, I'm going to humour you for the interim, because if you are telling the truth then this should be treated seriously. So, calm yourself down, take a deep breath, and go ahead and tell me exactly what happened. In detail, if you would."

"It happened just now. In first lesson, we were doing a practical in the lab, a titration. He started whispering in my ear that I looked nice in my lab coat, then as I finished pouring the sodium hydroxide into my burette he moved to stand closely behind me and said; 'Leah, you appear to have an air bubble in your glassware' even though I quite clearly did not. He proceeded to put his hands on my waist, and then moved them to the burette to get rid of the imaginary air bubble. After he had done that he moved them back to my body and he touched me." Leah paused and averted her eyes from the counsellor.

"Where Leah?" the counsellor prompted.

"My breasts," she choked out, barely audible.

"Oh. I see," she nodded solemnly. "Did anyone else witness this, seeing as you were there with the rest of your class?"

"No. I was at the back of the lab, though I think one of the technicians might have seen something."

"Which one, Leah?"

"I think her name is Karen," Leah said as she pictured the woman in her head.

"Oh, well I can't really ask her about it. I can never get a word out of that woman without creating an awkward situation. God only knows how she'd react if I asked her if she had been a witness to a scene of sexual harassment!"

"But you can't just do nothing!" Leah exclaimed, tears beginning to fall from her eyes once again.

"You're right. That's if to say you aren't lying of course," the counsellor said, trying to deduce if she was telling the truth. "Given your past record I'm really going to need a witness to confirm that what you're saying is true."

"You don't believe me do you? I don't know why I bothered coming to you in the first place. You are a counsellor; you're supposed to help me!" Leah shouted as she stormed out of the office.

"No Leah, I do believe you. It's just…" she started, but Leah had already left the room.

The counsellor's phone then started to ring, however in her flustered state she abruptly disconnected the call with a frustrated sigh.

As Leah closed the door behind her, she smiled slightly to herself, knowing that she had the counsellor right where she wanted her.

* * *

><p><em>Hello again Mycroft,<em>

_It's been a while since my last message so I figured it was about time I got in touch again._

_Really, all I wanted was to tell you is that time is running out. This time next week I will be sending someone to collect Sherlock from Trafalgar Square. A nice big crowd so that the handover doesn't look too conspicuous. Don't you dare let him kick up a fuss whilst he's there, because I'll be watching. The faintest hint that he's trying to play me and the CO2 escapes. Got it? Good. _

_5pm. Trafalgar Square. By the fountain. Send Sherlock. Or face the consequences._

_Much love x_

The words skipped around in Sherlock's mind palace as he paced up and down the length of Mycroft's office.

"Do stop pacing, brother. Give me something won't you. If ever there was a time that I needed you to be brilliant, it is now," Mycroft pressed, desperately.

Sherlock did not answer, leaving John to explain: "He's in his mind palace at the moment. Doesn't like to be interrupted you know."

"Mind palace? What is this obscenity? Give me strength. Honestly Sherlock, I can't be dealing with your ridiculous behaviour at the moment. Not when our country is on the brink of destruction. Do you have any idea what the consequences actually are? What would happen if the threat was really carried out?" Mycroft exploded, his face red, and a wild look in his eyes.

"Of course I know. I know most things, remember?" Sherlock retorted, rather childishly.

"See, this is what I mean. We're not children now Sherlock. This isn't just a squabble over the rocking horse anymore. This is serious! So please, give me something, Sherlock, anything. Otherwise I will have no choice but to hand you over for the greater good," Mycroft told him, his voice diminuendoed as he reached the end of his sentence.

"For the greater good?" Sherlock scoffed. "Stop being so bloody heroic! It doesn't suit you. I refuse to be passed over like some sort of bargaining chip. Especially, when there is no need for me to be."

"You don't know that; our research has confirmed that it is quite possible for this to be true," Mycroft began.

"It isn't," Sherlock stated.

"Quite sure about that are you? Because I'm not so sure I'm willing to take such a big risk based on only your assumption."

"Well then perhaps you shouldn't have asked for my help in the first place," Sherlock quipped.

"Sherlock, don't be like that. Just explain your reasoning," John interjected before another row erupted between the siblings.

"Fine," Sherlock surrendered. "We know that he is planning to release the gas from the UK, thus it must be stored here or at least in the surrounding waters. I've considered the landscape of the whole country, and looked at the conditions of the ocean floor under the Atlantic, as well as analysing the British channel. And after this deliberation, I have concluded that there simply is not enough room to store such a vast volume of gas underground, and the conditions underwater are not suitable to hold it all in either. It may be possible to gain access to and release some stored carbon dioxide of course, but nowhere near enough to cause any noticeable difference to UK emissions."

"I see," Mycroft responded, as he reclined back into his chair to consider what he had just heard. "And I've just got to take your word for it, I suppose."

"Yes. I'm afraid you are just going to trust me on this one, Mycroft," Sherlock told him, turning on his heel, ready to leave the office.

"I will, as I always have done," Mycroft said quietly to his brother's back. He wasn't sure whether he had heard until Sherlock suddenly stopped.

He remained faced away and replied simply with: "I know."

* * *

><p>Sherlock and John remained in silence during the cab ride home. Sherlock seemed typically lost in thought, so John chose not to ask the burning question that was niggling away at him. However, once they were back in their flat, Sherlock suddenly snapped out of his trance when he randomly commented: "Out of all the soap operas here in England, I feel that <em>Coronation Street<em> is the most unrealistic of them all."

"Sorry, what?" John asked, perplexed by the outburst.

"Would you not agree?" Sherlock asked.

"Well…wait, you don't even watch any soaps," John said.

"I don't need too," Sherlock told him.

Before Sherlock was able to launch into a detailed explanation has to how he had come to this decision, John quickly took the opportunity to bring his attention back to the case and ask him the question that had been playing on his mind.

"Sherlock," John started, a little apprehensively, "I was just wondering why it supposedly took you so long to deduce that the threat was meaningless. I mean, you're usually so much…quicker."

"Well, in this particular case, there was a lot more to consider," Sherlock explained, not meeting John's gaze as he did so.

"Yes, but is there more to the case than you're letting on?" john questioned.

"There's always more to everything than is ever let on, John," Sherlock replied cryptically as ever.

Before John had a chance to ask him anything else, Sherlock's phone stared to ring.

"Lestrade!" Sherlock answered with.

"I just got off the phone to Mycroft," Lestrade said in an irritated tone, not bothering with any pleasantries.

"That's nice for you," Sherlock replied sarcastically.

"Not really; not after what I've just heard. I can't believe you've just decided the threat isn't true, and abandoned the case."

"I haven't abandoned anything."

"Well it seems to me like you have. And by doing so we are going to be forced to take a pretty big risk, which is why I wanted to ask you if there's any way in which you would consider going ahead with the handover, as part of an operation of course. It could lead us to the person behind all this. I know it's a big ask, but we'd protect you…"

"No you wouldn't. I refuse to sacrifice myself in exchange for the promise that a large volume of non-existent stored gas will be released," Sherlock retorted aggressively.

"But you don't know that it's non-existent Sherlock," Lestrade interrupted, his tone becoming desperate.

"I do know it. And what's more is I know who is behind this, and I will lead you to him without the need for a hap-hazard police investigation which would most likely result in information being leaked to incapable Junior Police Officers and thus the public, causing widespread panic," Sherlock stated matter-of-factly.

"Enough with your undermining Sherlock, we are actually a lot better than you realise. I've had enough of you at the moment with your ever expanding ego. It's really starting to piss me off!"

"I don't think I'm the one that's pissing you off, am I?"

"Of course you are; you always are. Normally I can put up with you, but what with Stamford's death and this whole case…"

"And your new girlfriend giving you the cold shoulder," Sherlock interrupted.

"What? No she's not! How do you know about her anyway?" Lestrade questioned.

Just as Sherlock opened his mouth to speak, Lestrade quickly changed his mind and said: "Actually I don't want to know. Let's move on, I've got something to ask you anyway."

"Really, what is it?" Sherlock said eager for a new case to focus on.

"It's not a new case," Lestrade told him quickly, knowing that's what he'd be hoping for. Sherlock sighed audibly in disappointment. "It's...oh hang on I've got another call coming through. I'll talk to you about it after the funeral tomorrow."

"Don't bother, I'm not interested," Sherlock replied, but he had already been cut off. "It seems that she's decided she wants an idiotic, overpaid and ignorant boyfriend then after all," he muttered down the dead line.

* * *

><p>Stamford's wake was a gloomy affair, Sherlock noted, much like most other wakes, he imagined. He was milling around, letting John do all the talking to the bereaved and teary-eyed friends and relatives of Mike Stamford.<p>

"I'm just so sorry for your loss. He was a wonderful man, and our years of training together were some of the best of my life," John told Stamford's mother with a sympathetic smile.

"That's lovely to know, John. He spoke very highly of you too," the woman replied, squeezing John's shoulder before leaving his side to continue mingling amongst the sombre crowd.

"If she wasn't so upset, I doubt she'd believe you," Sherlock told his best friend, once the mother had left.

"I have no idea what you are talking about," John said.

"See, there you go again, trying to lie, and failing miserably. You know you really shouldn't bother John; your acting skills are atrocious," Sherlock scolded.

"Oh I'm sorry! What would you rather I had said: 'It's sad that your son is dead and everything but I always thought he was a bit of a dick! I hated having to spend so much time with him and very nearly killed him myself a few times.' Would that have been better?" John mocked, unintentionally loudly, causing several guests to turn and stare in horror at his words.

"John! We're at the poor man's wake, what are you thinking saying such hurtful things?" Sherlock said to his friend in front of the accumulating audience, demonstrating his own exquisite acting abilities. "Now, come on, let us leave these people to grieve in peace."

"Hang on a minute!" Lestrade called out to both of the men as they headed towards the exit, John's head hanging low in shame, Sherlock desperately trying to conceal a smirk. "Let me leave with you, I'll give you a lift."

"How can we help you?" Sherlock asked as they all climbed into Lestrade's car.

"Did you really mean all those things that you said about Mike, John?" Lestrade asked, hurt by what he had heard.

"No," John said quietly. "It was the grief talking, I'm really in denial. It's a coping mechanism I guess."

"Again, lies," Sherlock muttered, just loud enough for John to hear.

"Oh shut up you!" John snapped back.

"What? I didn't say anything. Wow! You really are a bit messed up at the moment aren't you, John?" Lestrade said, concerned.

"Actually I'm…"John began before giving in and simply replying: "Yes, yes I am."

"So what did you want to ask?" Sherlock inquired.

"A school in North London have asked if you'll do a talk for some sixth form students about the_ Art of Deduction_," Lestrade explained.

"No," Sherlock replied instantly.

"I was afraid you'd say that, which is why I didn't even tell you the first time they asked but they've been in contact again recently and it seems that they are really keen to have you in. The Head of Science in particular wants you to visit. He teaches chemistry and thinks it will make the kids a bit more enthusiastic about the subject when they hear about how you solve cases using forensics and scientific experiments," Lestrade tried to persuade him, targeting Sherlock's ego.

"I see. And the chemistry teacher specifically asked for me?" Sherlock asked for clarification.

"He did. So will you do it? It's only one afternoon, and seeing as you've given up on the CO2 case, you really don't having anything stopping you."

"Fine," Sherlock surrendered, surprisingly quickly.

"Really? I thought it would take a lot more persuasion than that. But, that's great. I'll pick you up and take you there on Thursday, then."

"Why are you coming too?" Sherlock asked.

"Well, I thought the kids might want to hear from a Detective Inspector as well," Lestrade explained.

"Oh, I highly doubt that," Sherlock commented as he stepped out of the car.

Lestrade shook his head in disbelief at Sherlock's blatant rudeness as he watched the two friends climb the Baker St. steps.

* * *

><p>"Come on, the assembly hall is this way," Lestrade said, conscious that they were running late already. But as he glanced over his shoulder he saw that Sherlock was stood motionless staring into a classroom. "Oh for God's sake Sherlock, we really have to go. And you look creepy staring at all those kids."<p>

Sherlock wasn't listening to Lestrade though; he was consumed by his thoughts as he stared at the whiteboard at the front of the room with a mass of notes all scribbled under the heading of 'Global Warming'.

"Come on Sherlock," John said tugging at his arm, "we have to get to this talk."

But Sherlock remained rooted to the spot, and told John: "No. I'm not going. This is much more interesting."

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><p><strong>AN: **Please continue to review if you would be so kind!


	5. Chapter Five: Connected

**Chapter Five: Connected**

**A/N: **For some reason we really struggled to write this chapter, but hopefully it is ok. There is a line included in this that we borrowed from _The Inbetweeners_, and if anyone spots it do let us know in a review. Also, we have based the technician on someone from our own school, who always manages to make everything really awkward. It's not really relevant, but we thought it might be nice to let you all in on the joke. Anyway, enough rambling, and on with the reading!

**Disclaimer: **The BBC owns Sherlock, Bwark Productions owns The Inbetweeners, but we very much own Leah, and of course the technician.

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><p>Sherlock turned on his heel and began striding down the school corridor.<p>

"Where are you going?" called Lestrade, "the hall is this way."

"ICT department," Sherlock told him.

"Why?"

"I need to hack into the schools system, and look at each and every one of the students' accounts."

"What? No, you can't do that!" Lestrade exclaimed.

"Of course I can. An institution like this has typically poor security, mainly because the only people accessing the network are children and idiots. Apart from today that is."

"No, I mean you can't do that because it wouldn't exact reflect very well on The Metropolitan Police if someone found out that a thirty-something year-old man had gained unauthorised access to the documents and emails of a load of minors."

"I don't think it would reflect badly if it leads me Mike Stamford's killer," Sherlock argued.

"So you think one of the students killed Mike?" John said in disbelief.

"Don't be ridiculous John. I think one of the teachers killed Mike, but I think one of the students sent the CO2 threat."

"What, you think the two cases are connected?" Lestrade questioned.

"Obviously, Lestrade," Sherlock said rolling his eyes.

"And how long have you known about this?"

"I hardly think that's relevant, now let's get going shall we?" Sherlock said, beginning to walk away from Lestrade.

"Even if this is a lead, we can't just hack into the system right under their noses," Lestrade reasoned.

"Of course we can, why wouldn't we?" Sherlock asked, annoyed by Lestrade's argumentative tone.

"It would be inappropriate," Lestrade stated.

"It would be more inappropriate if we broke into the school at night, surely? And besides, I was under the impression that you were desperate to catch Stamford's killer. But if that's not the case then we can just leave now," Sherlock threatened.

Lestrade sighed, surrendering at last: "Fine. But when you get put on the sex offenders list, I won't be there to help you get off of it."

Sherlock did not bother to reply, but marched on ahead to find the nearest computer suite. He entered a busy classroom and sat down to immediately begin typing feverously. The teacher approached apprehensively and tapped Sherlock on the shoulder. "Um, excuse me Sir, would you mind telling me who you are, I don't recognise you," the teacher inquired.

"I don't suppose you do; as I've never been here before," Sherlock told her, not bothering to make eye contact as he did.

"What are you doing here then?" the teacher persisted.

"I'm just testing your security system; it's very poor by the way," Sherlock commented.

"Oh well, if you're with a company could I see some identification? Its just we have to be careful," she explained.

"You have my word," Sherlock said with a smile.

"Um well…" the teacher started to apprehensively protest, before Lestrade strode up behind her and said: "It's ok, he's with the police," before flashing his detective badge at her. She nodded at him before her eyes flicked over to the group of unruly children at the other idea of the classroom who were throwing mouse mats at each other. "Oh excuse me, I have better go and deal with them" she said gesturing towards the students.

"Who exactly are we looking for then?" Lestrade asked.

"We?" Sherlock's eyes narrowed. "I don't see you doing any looking Lestrade."

"Fine, who are you looking for?"

"I'm looking for someone exceptionally clever, attention-seeking and most importantly, bordering on psychotic," Sherlock explained.

"Oh, so basically a younger version of yourself then?" he said laughing to himself.

"No, I expect it to be a girl; as females do generally seem to have more obsessive tendencies,"

"Isn't that a bit sexist?" John argued.

"No John, it's a fact. Just take a look at Justin Bieber fans if you don't believe me"

Before John could ask how Sherlock even knew who Justin Bieber was, he heard him exclaim: "Aha!"

"I take it you've found her then; that was quick!" Lestrade said as he leaned in over Sherlock's shoulder to take a look at the computer screen in front of him.

"I am quick."

"So who is she then?" John asked.

"An 18 year-old in the Upper Sixth, an over-achiever, with blatant behavioural problems if her school reports are anything to go by. And it would seem that she has an obsession with me, as I thought!"

"Why would an 18 year-old girl be interested in you?" Lestrade asked sarcastically.

"Well, he's not exactly that bad looking," John interjected, much to the surprise of Sherlock and Lestrade who turned abruptly to questioningly stare at him. "Forget I said anything," he said quickly, shaking his head.

"I've looked into her internet history and it appears she frequently accesses John's blog, downloads pictures of me, and has even written fanfiction about me during her free periods! Oh look, there's one about you and me here John," Sherlock commented as he clicked on the link, "what does 'slash' mean?"

"We haven't got time for this" Lestrade interrupted impatiently. "Now just get me some proof that she wrote the messages to Mycroft."

"There is none on here. She's not stupid; however I think I may be able to get a confession."

"Even better!" Lestrade exclaimed. "So where is she then?"

"Her timetable indicates that she is currently in Super Lab 1 in the middle of a Chemistry lesson," Sherlock told them before proceeding to close down all of the documents that he had accessed, and heading out of the ICT suite in search of the science department.

* * *

><p>Sherlock burst into the laboratory that he had been looking for, and was greeted by a nervous technician with thick curly brown hair. She quietly asked him: "Ummm, hello, how...how may I…may I help you, Sir?"<p>

"No help required thank you, Molly," Sherlock told her dismissively as he quickly scanned around the room.

"Umm, my name isn't…it's not Molly," the technician tried to tell him but Sherlock had already walked away and left John to apologise on his behalf and Lestrade to explain the situation.

"Oh don't worry about him, he just a bit distracted at the moment," John told her as watched the man in question peering over some of the students' shoulders to look at their work, quite obviously mentally scrutinising each and every piece.

Sherlock noted that the pupils were attempting to carry out redox reactions with a variety of transition elements, and badly, except for on student that was, who had quite clearly finished the class practical and was embarking on her own more interesting investigation involving rubidium and water, with an exciting visual result. Sherlock was most familiar with this experiment himself as he occasionally liked to carry it out in his kitchen, to John's dismay, when he felt bored in the flat.

"Hello, you must Leah Conrad," Sherlock greeted the girl, expecting a somewhat more enthusiastic response than he received.

"That is correct, and how may I help you?" she questioned, remaining completely focussed on her experiment, not even looking up at Sherlock as she spoke.

That was strange, he thought, she didn't even seem interested, let alone aroused.

After 10 seconds, he still hadn't replied, and Leah eventually met his gaze to prompt a response. He still did not answer though; instead he stared into her eyes, and though it was through safety spectacles, it was still clear that her pupils were not distinctly dilated, neither was her neck flushed pink or her palms sweaty. She was calm, disinterested. Sherlock was intrigued. The girl was supposed to be utterly infatuated with him, so why was she not displaying any immediate signs of attraction to him? Though, she was also incredibly intelligent, Sherlock reminded himself, so perhaps she was purposely putting on this façade, as to not scare him way. Though, even the most skilled people experienced in such an act struggle to repress the reflexes that he was looking out for. There was one thing he was sure that she would be unable to control though; her heart rate. It was bound to be raised, he just to needed to check. Perhaps contact would trigger more of a response anyway.

"Oh, it appears you've stained your hand with some potassium manganate, here let me try and get it off for you," Sherlock said with a smile as he slowly moved towards her and began rubbing his thumb on the brown stain marking her skin, as he did so he pressed his index and middle fingers against the pulse in her wrist.

John and Lestrade were stood nearby watching over Sherlock carefully as they allowed him to go about his unofficial interrogation with the girl.

"Is he…flirting with her?" Lestrade asked John, horrified.

"I think he might be," John confirmed, his brow furrowing in both amazement and disgust.

"I knew it would be a bad idea letting him talk to her on his own; I better go and intervene before this whole situation gets anymore out of hand," Lestrade said as he walked over to stand beside Sherlock.

"Hardly elevated at all," Sherlock muttered to himself as he took Leah's pulse, before looking up to see Lestrade standing next to him.

"Sherlock," Lestrade started but he paused suddenly when he noticed the Chemistry teacher head towards them. Sherlock himself looked up too as the male teacher walked out from the tech room and headed in their direction. He froze, rooted to the spot, his fingers still pressed against Leah's wrist. She had noticed the man approaching too, and as he got closer, Sherlock felt her pulse finally step up, and rapidly too, as did his own coincidentally, but for very different reasons he imagined.

The man had nearly reached them by this point, his white lab coat swinging as he walked. After what seemed like a lifetime he finally stopped beside them and spoke:

"Now, Sherlock, what do you think you're doing with my star pupil, here?" the teacher said in a thick Southern Irish accent.

Sherlock finally dropped his hand from Leah's, looked up and stared intensely into the man's piercing eyes to give his reply: "It's funny you should ask that as I was actually here to find out what you're doing with her, Moriarty."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Dun dun dun! Hope you enjoyed this chapter, even though it was a bit short. And well done to Nocturnias for guessing who the teacher was.

Please continue to review!


	6. Chapter Six: Ransom

**Chapter Six: Ransom**

**A/N: **Sorry it's been a while! We actually started writing this chapter on Saturday but we went to the cinema in the evening with friends so we couldn't finish it until today. If anyone's interested we saw 21 Jump Street, which was hilarious, and you should all go and see it! Anyway, here it is at last!

**Disclaimer: **Still not ours!

* * *

><p>"Well, why don't we go and have a little chat in the prep room back there," Moriarty suggested.<p>

"Here's fine," Sherlock announced.

"I think it would be more professional if we stepped outside, and let the kids get on with their experiment, if you know what I mean," Moriarty argued.

"Why don't you want to discuss this in front of Leah? Don't you want her to realise she's being used?"

"Don't listen to her sweetie," Moriarty said, smiling at Leah.

"You're used to doing what he says, aren't you Leah?" Sherlock asked. "But you know he doesn't really love you."

Leah tried and failed to stifle a gasp in response to his bluntness, prompting Lestrade to cut it in and reason: "Come on, I think it would be best for all parties involved if perhaps we did have this discussion away from the students."

"Exactly!" Moriarty exclaimed in eager agreement, and promptly began to lead the men into the prep room. As they walked towards it, Sherlock suddenly turned to John and asked: "Where do you think you're going?"

"With you, obviously," John replied.

"No, you are needed in here," Sherlock stated.

"What the hell for?" John asked incredulously.

"To help keep the class under control, of course," Sherlock explained, before closing the door in John's bewildered face.

"Give us a minute would you, Karen," Moriarty said to the bushy-haired technician who was tidying up lab equipment in the prep room.

"Ummm, ok, yeah, sure," the technician replied, quickly heading for the exit upon instruction, and dropping a conical flask as she did.

She bent down to begin picking up the shards of glass, but Moriarty intervened and told her: "Don't worry about that, I can deal with it; you go on out."

"No, no it's fine, I made the mess, I can clear it up," she argued, impaling a shard of glass in her hand as she went about doing so, only adding to the mess as she bled all over the floor.

"Really Karen, it's fine, just go," Moriarty told her, quickly growing impatient.

"Well, if you're sure," the technician started.

"Of course he's sure; he's told you to go three times, so just leave will you so that we can get on here," Sherlock ordered sharply.

The technician obeyed submissively; bowing her head and quickly shuffling out of the room as Lestrade called out apologies after her.

* * *

><p>"Excuse me, Sir," John looked up in surprise at the student who had approached him. "I was just wondering when the copper sulphate solution reacts with the ammonia, how many of the ammonia ligands substitute the water ligands, is it four or six?" said a short, bespectacled, dark haired boy who looked too young to be in the Sixth Form, in John's opinion.<p>

John merely stared at him blankly, failing to recall anything about ligands from his school days, or even his university days for that matter, and said, "What?"

The student began to repeat his question, before John interjected, "I heard you the first time, but I have no idea I'm afraid. I'm not the teacher you see, I'm just here on an investigation. Why don't you ask the technician over there?"

"On an investigation. Oh really, that sounds interesting!"

"Yes," John replied quickly as his phone began to ring, "excuse me, I've got to take this."

"Umm, Ok then," the boy said and he proceeded to ask Karen the question instead.

"Well, you need to add 1cm3 of copper sulphate and then go to the fume cupboard and add the ammonia drop-wise until there is a colour change," Karen replied.

"No, I know how to do it, I've done it."

"Was there a colour change from pale blue to deep blue?"

"Yes, I just wanted to know why," the student explained, growing impatient with her.

"Well, it's because of ligands substitution."

"Yes I am aware of that! But as I asked I just wanted to know how many of the ligands are substituted," the boy clarified, exasperated with the technician by this point.

John walked away from what was becoming an increasingly heated discussion, in an attempt to hear what Molly was trying to tell him down the phone, "Sorry about that Molly, what were you saying?"

"Oh I just wanted to ask how your foot is, and make sure that Sherlock's not taking you on a wild goose chase round London, because you need to rest it you know," Molly mothered.

"Well, I've just been running around like a lunatic after Lestrade and Sherlock in a school, but other than that I've been really relaxed! I'm able to walk now, still with a bit of a limp though mind you."

"What are you doing in a school?"

"Oh it's a long story," John dismissed.

"Well maybe you could explain it to me later. I thought I could come over and redress your foot," Molly offered.

"Oh," John said in surprise at Molly's uncharacteristic forwardness. "Alright then."

"Oh…ummm…only if that's alright with you. I didn't mean to invite myself along…I just thought you might need me to see to it." Molly stuttered as she realised how it must have sounded; she chided herself for allowing her desperation to see Sherlock to come through. She must remember to control that in future, she reminded herself mentally.

"Oh no it's fine; you could stay for dinner if you want?" John suggested.

"No, no it's fine. I wouldn't want to outstay my welcome. I know Sherlock's busy with his…experiments in the evenings."

"Don't worry about him, I'm allowed guests as well," John said in jest.

Molly laughed nervously, "Ok then, I'll come straight from work. So I should be there for about 7."

"Yeah, ok, that's fine. Sorry Molly, I've got to hang up now as I'd better go and save the technician from these children," John explained.

"Technician? What technician?" Molly asked, before realising that John had already ended the call.

John walked over to assist the flustered looking woman, who was being encircled by a group of students holding various items of lab equipment in a threatening manner, although he was unsure how to help the situation as it had been well over twenty years since he had studied chemistry at school.

* * *

><p>"Right, now where were we?" Moriarty asked Sherlock.<p>

"Well, you were about to tell me why you went to the trouble of finding a clever young female in the form of a Miss Leah Conrad to send threats to my brother."

"Ah, that," Moriarty said, nodding over-enthusiastically; feigning sudden realisation. "Well, I needed you two to meet somehow, and I thought what better way to do that than to obtain a shitload of phantom CO2 and harbour it in my imaginary underground lair, ready to release upon the unsuspecting British public. Of course the aim was never for you to believe the threat, which I knew you wouldn't. But it fulfilled its purpose in being a nice little appetiser to get your attention."

"So, you sent the threat to Mycroft to panic him, and you knew he would tell Sherlock, but keep it quiet from the official powers that be," Lestrade summarised, mainly for his own benefit. "Well what about Stamford then, was he just a spanner in the works?"

"Well as you know it was supposed to be Molly, but silly old Stamford decided to take her place in the lift. Which was fine really, not too much of a hindrance. Molly dying was only ever going to be an added bonus; all I needed was to make a point. The identity of the body didn't really matter too much."

"Mike mattered to me," Lestrade spat with anger, evidently wounded to receive confirmation of the apparent pointlessness of his friend's death. "How can you be so bloody insensitive?"

Sherlock continued, he and Moriarty both completely ignoring Lestrade's outburst. "And you persuaded Leah to send the messages from here, so that when I received the invitation to give a talk at this school-from you-I would soon work out that she was the culprit."

"Good, well done, you're nearly there, but why did I choose Leah specifically? Why, out of all the teenagers in the world, did I select her?" Moriarty prompted, in his infuriatingly patronising manner.

"Well you needed a girl, which narrowed it down to only half of the teenage population, and you needed someone who would be so totally infatuated with you that she'd be willing to pose as a terrorist, which would have left you with the only girl in the entire world who would be stupid enough to fall for a maniac like you," Sherlock offered.

"Wrong!" Moriarty chimed. "Don't be so ignorant, Sherlock, what's to say a lovely young gay man might fall head over heels in love with me? Anyway, I actually chose a girl for the vulnerability factor. And the whole infatuation thing just came as a bonus really. I knew that as long as I used my Irish charm she'd be at my beck and call, but even I hadn't anticipated that she'd be so desperate to become the next Mrs Moriarty. Though then again, I am totally irresistible."

Sherlock scoffed.

"I hardly think you're in any position to mock me; not when you instantly assumed it was you that she had the obsession with. See, I knew you'd think that. Because, modesty never has been one of your strong traits, has it Sherlock? So very self-obsessed and narcissistic, it's almost sickening. But I mean, I suppose can't blame you, not really, you are obscenely intelligent after all, as is Leah for that matter," Moriarty hinted.

"Which is why you chose her," Sherlock added, realisation eventually flooding his thoughts.

"At last he's got it! Bravo, my man," Moriarty exclaimed, offering his mock congratulations. You may be clever when it comes to working out the identity of a murderer just by noticing an air vent, but when it comes to what's staring you in the face; you're concerningly slow on the uptake."

Sherlock gave no verbal response; he just glared harrowingly at Moriarty, waiting for him to continue.

"She's basically a female version of you, in teenage form of course. She's a protégé, in the most irritating sense of the word, like you. She's cocky, like you. She's strikingly beautiful, in an odd sort of way, like you, but don't tell John I said that though; I wouldn't want to make him jealous! And most importantly she's got good intentions, like you, which ultimately makes her, and yourself, inferior to me."

"I am most certainly not inferior to you!" Sherlock protested.

"Now, now gentlemen. Let's get back to the matter in hand," Lestrade interjected, acting the referee.

"Well, now you've got me here and I've met your new…assistant, tell me exactly what it is you want," Sherlock insisted.

"I've already told you in all my messages: I want you Sherlock. I want you to be my little pet, we could live together and we'd have such fun!" Moriarty exclaimed.

"Well as much as this domestic dream appeals to me, I'm rather busy with my work," Sherlock said sarcastically.

"I had a feeling you might say that. I knew you would need a little more incentive, bringing us round to the subject of Leah again," Moriarty told him, and Sherlock knew what was coming. "Now that I've forced a connection between you two, and you've started to identify with her, there's no way you will let me do all the nasty things to her that I've got planned."

"So it's a case of either Leah or Sherlock?" Lestrade clarified.

"Spot on Greg!" Moriarty praised the Detective Inspector.

"How do you know his name as well?" Sherlock asked in astonishment.

"Even the world's greatest criminal mastermind knows my name, how did you manage to miss it?" Lestrade joked.

"Criminal mastermind, yes. But he's certainly not the greatest." Sherlock disputed.

Moriarty ignored his jibe and continued to explain the exchange deal: "So here's the thing, I've planned a nice date for me and Leah tomorrow. I'm going to woo her; she's going to love it. There will be candles, roses and wine. It's every teenage girl's dream, her teacher taking her out-it's kind of sordid, in a romantic kind of way, don't you think? And after we've enjoyed our meal, I'm either going to take her back to my house and keep her there. Or if you do as you're told and come to the restaurant an hour into our date, which FYI will be 8pm, then I will tell her that things have gone too far and we must end our relationship. She will be distraught and storm out of the restaurant, meanwhile I will take my new date home, which is you by the way, and keep you there. The choice is really yours Sherlock. You've obviously got a lot to think about so I'll leave you to it. I'd better get back to my class anyway. Looks like John's letting them run wild out there."

Sherlock and Lestrade stood in stunned silence as they watched Moriarty leave the room.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Well there you go; we hope it was a satisfying chapter. We wonder if anyone noted the reference to one of the ACD books, let us know in a review if you did. The next chapter should be up at around the same time next week. It will contain some Sherlolly, as promised. Look forward to it!


	7. Chapter Seven: Interruption

**Chapter Seven: Interruption **

**A/N: **Just so you know, we are sat in a car in street writing this at 11.30pm (it looks like we are on a stakeout), as we've just got back from seeing The Hunger Games and we wanted to get this chapter finished before we parted ways. We thought it was a really good film, if a bit on the long side! It's made us want to read the books now. Anyway, we are nearing the finale with this fic, but this chapter is more of a filler. We think it's quite funny though and hope you do too. However be warned-there is an f-bomb!

**Disclaimer: **What with us being not Scottish, not male and not middle-aged, sadly we are not Moffat and Gatiss.

* * *

><p>Sherlock, John and Lestrade walked out of the school gates, silently contemplating what Moriarty had said. Sherlock and John raced ahead, before John stopped abruptly when he realised Lestrade wasn't following and looked back at him, puzzled. "Aren't you going back to the station now?"<p>

"Oh no, not just yet. You go on ahead in a cab, I know Sherlock prefers that," Lestrade replied.

"Oh, alright then," John called out to him as he hurried to catch up with Sherlock, who hadn't even acknowledged the hold-up. Just as he reached him, Sherlock had already hailed a cab, leaving John to quickly get in before it drove off. The two men sat in a stony silence as the cab whisked through the afternoon traffic of London.

"That was a bit weird back there, wasn't it?" John said, interrupting the silence. "I wonder why Lestrade didn't leave at the same time as us?" But his comment met no reply from Sherlock, who continued to stare out of the window. "Seems very strange…" John muttered.

"It's not that strange at all," Sherlock snapped suddenly. "He knows I don't like getting lifts from the police."

"Well, as hard as it may be for you to believe, I don't actually think his behaviour had anything to do with your transport preferences at all," John said to the window, smirking to himself. He allowed himself a brief glance in Sherlock's direction, and he could almost see the metaphorical smoke pouring out of his ears.

"As I was about to continue, it may also be something to do with the date that he's going on tonight," Sherlock explained self-righteously.

"Date?" John queried. "I didn't even know he had a girlfriend."

"Yes John, he's going on a date. I did tell you he had a girlfriend, but you mustn't have been listening. Anyway, It's obvious from his new overpriced aftershave, the fact that's he's actually ironed his shirt, bought a new tie, taken to wearing sterling silver cuff links, and not to mention that he's had his chest waxed," Sherlock reeled off.

John winced as he considered the prospect of his own chest hair ripped off his body.

Sherlock paused before continuing: "And of course he did have a condom in his front right trouser pocket which did somewhat giveaway his plans for this evening."

"Oh, well yes, that would make sense, I suppose," John muttered awkwardly, before jokingly adding: "at least someone's getting lucky tonight then."

Sherlock didn't appear to react to John's comment; instead he returned to staring intently out the window the cab for the duration of the journey home.

* * *

><p>"We'll have a bottle of Chateau Lynch Bages, please," Lestrade told the waiter.<p>

"Ooh that's sounds expensive," Carol said, clearly impressed.

"Ahh, only the best for you Carol," Lestrade said as he winked flirtatiously.

"So how was your week?" Carol asked, as she leaned in towards Lestrade.

"Stressful. Let's not even talk about work," Lestrade replied dismissively.

"That's probably a good idea; my job's been pretty awful recently. In all honesty, the thought of this date has been the only thing that's got me through this week," Carol said suggestively.

"How are the girls?" Lestrade asked, referring to Carol's two daughters.

"Oh they're with their pig of a father this weekend, so I've got the house free tonight."

Lestrade smiled to himself; he'd been hoping she would say that, at which point the waiter arrived and poured the wine into each of their glasses.

"Oh look at that ruby red colour," Carol said, gesturing to the wine. "It's beautiful isn't it? I love rubies!" Lestrade nodded, making a mental note to buy her some jewelry with rubies in as a gift at some point.

* * *

><p>Sherlock's head perked up as he heard someone approach the steps of Baker Street. "Who's that?" he snapped at John.<p>

"It must be Molly, I said she could come round and do my bandages," John explained.

"Oh, did you now?" Sherlock said in a disgruntled tone.

"Don't be so mean Sherlock; she's helping me out here."

"You're a doctor, John. Why can't you do it yourself?"

"I could, but it's a lot easier having someone to help me out," John reasoned.

"Now I'm going to have to listen to her stuttering for hours," Sherlock sighed.

"Oh don't be so mean," John said as he heard a knock at the door. "Come on up," he called out.

Molly bustled into the flat, with her big striped bag over her shoulder, carrying all the necessary medical supplies to redress John's foot. "Hi John! Oh and…umm…hi Sherlock." Sherlock didn't look up from the book he was reading, but merely gave a slight nod.

"Why are you reading the Qur'an? I didn't know you were a Muslim," Molly commented jokingly as she watched Sherlock read.

John laughed before Sherlock cut in with: "I'm not. I just like to read about different cultures in my spare time," dismissing Molly's joke entirely.

"Oh really, I thought you would be busy with the Stamford case," Molly replied.

"Well quite clearly I'm not," Sherlock said bluntly.

"Well, we are still working on it; we've got a new lead but there's a few things we need to consider before we move on with the investigation," John told Molly.

"Oh right, I see," Molly nodded, not wanting to pry any further.

"Anyway, do you want a cup of tea before you take a look at my foot?" John offered.

"Oh yeah, that would be great thanks," Molly said as she sat down in a chair next to Sherlock, and began asking him: "So, is it interesting then?"

"What?" Sherlock asked, looking at her absently.

"The Islamic culture, I've always found it fascinating. Why is it they don't eat pork again, something to do with pigs being sacred?"

Sherlock slammed down the book, giving up on trying to read as he knew he would be unable to concentrate. At that moment John came in, "I've made you a cup of tea Sherlock," he said setting the cup down beside him.

"Oh goody!" Sherlock exclaimed sarcastically.

* * *

><p>"So what do you fancy for dessert then?" Lestrade asked his date.<p>

"Well, actually I was thinking we could have our third course back at my place if you're ok with that," Carol said as she seductively fingered the rim of her wine glass.

"Oh, ok, sure, it'll save me some money on the bill I suppose!" he said.

Carol laughed but then she stopped suddenly when she realised that Greg hadn't been joking. "Oh, you're being serious! No, I didn't mean actual pudding, silly!"

"Oh, did you just mean coffee then?" Lestrade asked, puzzled.

"No Greg, I meant sex!" Carol told him.

"Oh!" Lestrade exclaimed, both shocked at her bluntness and embarrassed by his stupidity. "Of course you did, sorry, I'm just so out of practice. It's been twenty years since I was last going on dates. And besides, it's hard for me to believe that a beautiful woman would ever want to invite me back to their place for anything more than actual dessert."

"Oh, don't put yourself down," Carol scolded. "You're positively a hunk!"

"I don't know about that, but I mean I do try and go to the gym whenever I can!" Lestrade told her coyly.

"I can tell," Carol flirted. "Now how about we get the bill and head on back?"

"Yes, definitely. Excuse me, bill please," Lestrade called over the waiter hurriedly, eager to get on the evening's proceedings.

* * *

><p>"Right, let me have a look at your foot John," Molly said, bending down to remove his bandages.<p>

"Thanks again for doing this Molly," John said appreciatively.

"Oh my god!" Molly exclaimed as she uncovered John's foot. "This is really bad. You haven't been looking after it at all have you?"

"I've been trying, but we just been so busy with work and everything…" John attempted to explain.

"I think you're going to need to get this checked out at the hospital John; you might have an infection."

"Oh ok, I guess I'll pop by St. Bart's sometime this week then," John said, not sounding too concerned.

"No, you need to go now John. It's urgent, you might well have septicemia" Molly pressed. "Come on, me and Sherlock will come with you."

"I was actually hoping to read more of the Qur'an," Sherlock argued, reluctant to leave the flat.

"No. You're coming," Molly ordered, in an uncharacteristically forceful tone. Sherlock simply stared in disbelief at Molly's change in behaviour, unable to argue any further.

Molly quickly re-bandaged John's foot, as Sherlock got up and said, "I'll go and get us a cab."

After quickly fixing John's bandages, Molly rushed him out of the door. "Wait a second Molly, I just need to get my wallet," John started to say, before she slammed the door shut. "And my keys…" he added, however it was too late, as the door locked when she closed it.

"Don't worry, I'll pay for the cab," Molly reassured him, before pausing and realising that she too had left her bag inside the flat. "Oh no! My purse is inside too. Oh well, we will just have to get Sherlock to pay for once," she suggested as they began to make their way down the stairs, Molly supporting John, as he struggled not to put any weight on his damaged foot. When they reached the street Molly called out to Sherlock, "Is it alright if you pay for this journey, only John and I have left our money in the flat you see."

"I never really carry any money with me, John always pays for the taxi," Sherlock explained.

"Oh ok… well just give me your keys and I'll go back up and fetch my purse."

"I don't carry keys either; I usually leave that to John," Sherlock said, as he realised they were now locked out of the flat.

On overhearing this, the taxi driver interjected, "Well if you can't pay the fee, I'll be off," before driving away immediately.

"Oh, so do you have any spare keys under the mat?" Molly asked hopefully.

Sherlock tutted, as John said "No Sherlock won't allow that, poor security and all that."

"Well surely Mrs. Hudson must have a spare key."

"Yes she does, but it's a Thursday night so she will be at her Zumba class until 9," John said.

"Oh right, is there anyone you can call to give you a lift? Lestrade maybe?" Molly asked, rapidly running out of suggestions.

"Oh yeah, that's a good idea," John said, him and Molly both turning to stare at Sherlock.

"What?" Sherlock exclaimed.

"Well I can't do it, I'm incapacitated," John argued.

"And I haven't got his number," Molly added.

"Oh fine," Sherlock said exasperated, as he began to dial Lestrade's number.

* * *

><p>Lestrade reversed into an empty space outside of the house, turned off his engine and quickly got out of the car, before practically sprinting after Carol towards her front door.<p>

"Help yourself to a drink if you want, I'm just going to quickly go freshen up," Carol told him hospitability once they were inside.

Lestrade took her up upon the offer and poured both of them a glass of wine from the half-full bottle on the kitchen work top.

He then carried the glasses into the living room and placed them carefully on Carol's coffee table before sitting himself down on her plush sofa. He found himself breathing erratically, obviously anxious about the prospect of sleeping with another woman since his ex-wife. He began muttering under his breath, giving himself a pep talk.

'Greg, calm down, you're going to be fine, it's not like you've never done it before. Sure, it's been three years, but it doesn't just stop working. She may seem confident to you, but she's probably just as nervous as you are. Even if doesn't go the way you planned, I'm sure she'll understand and give you another chance. Oh, who are you kidding, of course it'll go well; you're fucking amazing in bed, remember.'

Just as he had finished his motivational speech, his phone started to ring. He looked at who was calling him, his phone said 'Sherlock'. 'Of course he would ring him now', Lestrade sighed. He ignored the first call and the second, and the third, but by the fourth he figured it must be important, so reluctantly answered.

"Dammit," he cursed to himself before asking "What the hell do you want Sherlock."

"That's not very polite," Sherlock stated.

"What do you want?" Lestrade repeated angrily.

"I need you to come down to Baker Street and take me, Molly and John to the hospital," Sherlock explained.

"What, why?" Lestrade asked.

"John's foot is infected, it's very green and full of puss, Molly fears he may develop septicemia."

"Christ! Really! That doesn't sound good," Lestrade said.

"No, it's not, which is why we need to take him to A&E immediately."

"Well, why can't you just get a cab?"

"None of us have any money on us and we're locked out of the flat."

"Of course you are. Well can't Mrs. Hudson..." Lestrade began.

"She's at Zumba class, she goes every Thursday apparently."

"Oh right, well is there anyone else you could ask for a lift?" Lestrade tried.

"No," Sherlock stated, "hence why I opted to phone you."

"Right, it's just it's really not a great time at the moment Sherlock," he explained.

"Well, I rather think the welfare of John's foot should really take priority right now, don't you?" Sherlock said, but Lestrade hadn't heard him; he was watching Carol walk down the stairs in the type of lingerie he had only ever seen on the girls who he had watched on his computer most nights for the past three years. His mouth dropped as he took in the sight of her.

"Is everything ok?" carol asked as she made her way down, noting that Greg was on the phone.

"Lestrade!" Sherlock boomed down the phone. "Are you listening to me?"

Lestrade snapped out of his trance and mouthed 'sorry' to Carol before returning to his phonecall.

"Sherlock, it's been three years, for Christ's Sake, did you really have to do this to me tonight of all nights?" he hissed down the phone in fury.

"Well, John hardly chose to develop an infection on this fine evening in particular. And besides, I scarcely think she's worth it anyway."

"What? Who?" Lestrade asked confused.

"You're new girlfriend obviously!"

"You're very much wrong there," Lestrade told him, aware that Carol was slowly approaching him.

"You do realise that's she's only with you with for your money. She's a notorious gold-digger, just ask her previous five husbands!"

"What are you talking about, there's only been one!" Lestrade explained as Carol, sensing his obvious stress, began to massage his shoulders.

"I think you know me well enough to know that I'm not lying. So, make you're excuses, leave immediately and meet us outside our flat, sharpish," Sherlock ordered heartlessly, before hanging up.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm going to have to go," Lestrade delivered the news to his company.

"What! Why would you want to do that?" Carol asked, astounded; she had never been rejected once in her life before, and she wasn't ready to have that record broken tonight.

"Trust me, I don't," Lestrade told her honestly. "It's just there's been a crisis and I've got to help some friends out. They're in an emergency and they really need me right now. I wouldn't go if it wasn't so urgent, but it is and I'm so, so sorry. Believe me."

"I see," Carol said, clearly fuming.

"Look, let me make it up to you, tomorrow. I'll take you out again," Lestrade offered.

"Fine, I suppose I could give you a second chance," she agreed.

"Thank you so much! I promise I'll make it worth the wait."

"Hmmm, you better do," Carol added.

Just as Lestrade kissed her goodbye he received a text: _Where are you? Hurry up. John's foot could fall off at any moment. - SH_

"Right, I better go, see you tomorrow, I'll pick you up from work and we'll go out for lunch. And as I said, I really am so sorry." Lestrade apologised once again before rushing out of his date's house.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **We will be back to the main plot in the next chapter, but hope you enjoyed this one!


	8. Chapter Eight: Warning

**Chapter Eight: Warning**

**A/N: **This is quite an exciting chapter as a few interesting things are revealed, so we hope you enjoy it. Sorry it's taken a while to update, it was a long one to write.

We seem to be lacking in reviews for this fic, so we would really appreciate it if you took the time to let us know what you think.

**Disclaimer: **As you should know by now, we definitely don't own.

* * *

><p>Sherlock drummed his fingers against the armrest on his chair as he impatiently waited for John to return from seeing the doctor. The man seated next to him sneezed loudly, causing Sherlock to lurch away from him, waking Molly who was sleeping on his shoulder as he did so.<p>

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry…did I fall asleep on you?" Molly quickly apologised.

"Yes."

"Oh, I'm so sorry Sherlock," Molly blushed.

"Yes, you just said that," Sherlock acknowledged as he turned his attention to the culprit who had just sneezed on him. "You know it's really not necessary to come to A&E with a cold, its people like you that lead to traffic jams such as these in the emergency rooms of this country," he said furiously.

"Actually I'm not here for a cold, I'm here due to a very painful incident involving a vacuum cleaner!" the man argued defensively.

"What?" Lestrade exclaimed in confusion.

"Oh, apologies," Sherlock replied, "I understand now, but you could still help avoid these delays by using a safer method of foreplay in the future."

"Did you just say what I thought you said?" Lestrade asked, shocked.

Sherlock ignored Lestrade's comment, and jumped from his seat as he saw John finally emerge. "John, at last!" he exclaimed, eager to leave the hospital.

"Yes…" John began; about to explain what the doctor had said before Sherlock interjected.

"Come on now, let's leave. We don't want to waste any more time here," he said as he began striding out of the waiting room.

"Yes right, of course we don't want to waste time," John agreed satirically.

"Are you ok John? What did the doctor say?" Molly asked sympathetically as they walked out of the hospital.

"It's not septicaemia. Just a mild infection, the name of which escapes me now; I was practically nodding off while I was in there. He gave me a bit of a telling off for not looking after it but he didn't seem too concerned. He's given me a prescription for some antibiotics and so I should be right as rain in a few days."

"Oh good, that's good, very good," Molly smiled at him.

"Yes," John agreed with a yawn.

"Oh let's get you home, you really need some rest," Molly mothered.

"Yes, you must be quite tired yourself, what with waiting for me all this time."

"Yes, I am, in fact I actually fell asleep on Sherlock a minute ago!" Molly confessed.

John's surprise in concern to this revelation caused him to knock into a fire extinguisher which was mounted on the wall. "What and he let you?"

"Oh goodness, are you alright John?" Molly said, concerned that he had just injured himself further.

"Yes, yes I'm fine. Just clumsy, that's all," John explained. "So when you say you fell asleep on him, you mean actually on him?"

"Well I didn't intend to. I woke up when he jumped up so I must have had my head on his shoulder, I think."

"Wow. He usually gets edgy when he has to shake someone's hand; he's not really a fan of human contact in any form."

Before Molly could reply, Lestrade charged towards them, "Could you two please hurry up, I'm not being funny John; I know you are injured but I've already spent five hours in A&E and I'd really like to get home before sunrise!"

"Yes of course," John said apologetically and began to walk faster, "thanks so much for driving me here, I really appreciate it."

"Yeah," Lestrade said as he tried to hurry him along.

"Is everything ok Greg, it's just you seem angry?" John questioned whilst eyeing him cautiously.

"Everything's fine. Now let's go," Lestrade retorted abruptly.

"Ok," John said. "But you know if you ever want to talk, I'm always here."

"Oh, right, thanks John, I'll bear that in mind," Lestrade replied, slightly taken aback by John's offer.

"I mean it," John confirmed.

"I'm sure you do, and if ever I need to talk someone, you'll be the first one I'll go to," Lestrade lied; he wasn't really one for discussing his feelings. "Anyway, lets' get you back home, shall we?"

* * *

><p>"Must you drive so quickly?" Sherlock asked, antagonising Lestrade.<p>

"What do you mean? You're always trying to speed everything up usually. 'Hurry up and get me case, Lestrade', 'hurry up and get away from my crime scene, Anderson', 'hurry up and make me a sandwich, John', 'hurry up and come and fetch me, Lestrade'," he mocked bitterly.

"Yes, it is true that I prefer a fast-paced approach to life, but not so fast-paced that I could end up wrapped around a lamp post," Sherlock explained, to which Lestrade scoffed. "I sense that you're still harbouring some resentment about providing us with a lift this evening."

"Nope, no resentment, none at all, I'm fine," Lestrade insisted as he gripped the steering wheel with brute force.

"Sorry to drag you away from whatever it was you were doing tonight, I really do appreciate the lift, mate," John told him gratefully.

"I know, it's fine," Lestrade said. "It was just bad-timing that's all."

"Actually it was very good-timing if you ask me," Sherlock interpolated.

"Except nobody did ask you," John muttered from the back seat.

"If I hadn't had called you away from _that woman_…" Sherlock began.

"Her name is Carol," Lestrade cut in.

"Who's Carol?" Molly whispered to John.

"No idea, I was about to ask you the same thing," he replied.

"It doesn't matter. You should be thankful that I interrupted, as if it weren't for me she'd have dug her claws even deeper into you and by this time next year she'd have chewed you up and spat you out and you'd be penniless and alone," Sherlock told him unashamedly bluntly.

"You can't say stuff like that, Sherlock, you don't know that is going to happen," Lestrade spat out.

"Oh come one, look at the size of her house, the model of her car, the quality of her furnishings, the labels on her clothes. Then look at her salary. Plus, she's got two kids to support. It doesn't add up," Sherlock told him.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe she recently came into some inheritance or something," Lestrade suggested.

"Nope, all her relatives are estranged; they all disapprove of her gold-digging nature. They prefer love over money, unlike dear old Carol herself."

"How do you even know this? I know you're good at deduction, but even you need to have met the person in order to have deduced their life story," Lestrade said.

"I have seen her," Sherlock revealed.

"When?"

"Recently, at a glance, which was all I needed," Sherlock told him, with a smile.

"Right, well whatever, I'm not just going to dump someone as out of my league as Carol just based upon your instincts and dodgy impression of her," Lestrade told him defiantly as he pulled up in front of 221B Baker Street.

"Ok then," Sherlock seemingly surrendered and went to open his door, but before he got out, her added: "But maybe you might want to ask yourself why someone so out of league seems to be interested in you."

"Oh, just go," Lestrade ordered.

"I'm going, rest assured, but I'll see you later on today at the school," Sherlock announced.

"What why?" Lestrade inquired, confused.

"For the talk that you wanted me to do for the sixth formers," Sherlock explained.

"That was meant to be today, and besides, that was just an excuse for Moriarty to get you there."

"I know, but I'd already prepared a talk and it would be such a shame for no-one to ever hear it," Sherlock enlightened.

"Well, ok, then, I mean I could tell them that you've rearranged your visit to this afternoon I suppose, if you really want to do it," Lestrade offered.

"I do," Sherlock confirmed eagerly.

"Right, well I'll meet you in the foyer at lunchtime, you can make your own way there," Lestrade said before speeding away into the distance.

* * *

><p>The students began filing into the assembly hall and chatting noisily as they took their seats. Lestrade leaned over to Sherlock and whispered: "Now be careful what you say Sherlock; they are kids, remember. Just try not to be too much like yourself and don't freak them out, please."<p>

"I shall act upon your advice, as always," Sherlock said dryly.

At this point a tall, dark haired man dressed in a navy blue suit with piercing azure eyes stood up and began addressing the students. "Good afternoon Year 13, you might be wondering why I've called you into assembly on a Friday, and it's because we have some special guests here with us today. We've got Detective Inspector Lestrade form the Metropolitan Police. And a man you might be familiar with, the only Consulting Detective in the world, Mr Sherlock Holmes." This prompted a loud applause from the audience.

"And his assistant, Mr John Watson," the teacher added, gesturing towards John as the adolescents remained silent. "Ok then, Mr Holmes, the floor is all yours."

Sherlock rose from his chair and moved to the front of the hall. "Hello. I'm here to talk to you all about the Science of Deduction, and I thought what better way to do so than to demonstrate on one of you. So, who wants to volunteer?"

On hearing this, every student raised a hand eagerly in an attempt to catch Sherlock's attention, except for Leah Conrad that was, who was sat in the very front row, staring at him intently. "How about you?" he said pointing towards her. Leah ignored Sherlock's request and remained seated defiantly, so Sherlock strode towards her, grabbed her hand and pulled her to the front.

"For instance, here we have Leah Conrad, whose name is written neatly on the Maths exercise book I can see coming out of her bag. So Leah, I notice you have obvious dark circles under your eyes, which indicate that you have trouble sleeping. This is really expected as insomnia is a problem often common in young protégées. And how do I know you are a genius? Well, it's the way everyone acts when they are around you. Your teachers look at you in awe, almost in admiration of you. Your fellow peers however, sighed when I called you up to the front, suggesting they dislike you and your tendency to always get all the attention as a result of your intelligence."

"Sherlock," Lestrade tried to intervene, but was batted away swiftly.

"Your hands are well worn, indicating exposure to a variety of different chemicals without gloves. Today, your hands are stained with a rusty-brown substance, which you have not bothered to wash off, indicating it is only a mild irritant, most probably iodine, which is a common indicator used to test for starch. The indents on the side of your face show that you have been wearing safety goggles recently, so you have just come from doing a practical experiment. The mark on your right thumb suggests you have been using a syringe, the fact that the indent is quite pronounced still implies that you had trouble squeezing the contents out so it must have been some sort of viscous liquid, sodium alginate perhaps, which you had to force out the nozzle attached to the syringe to make enzyme beads. I can tell you were wearing a lab coat which was too big for you, as there are splashes of liquid on your top which have almost dried now, indicating that it occurred midway through the practical. Therefore it is probably calcium chloride from when you were dropping the beads into the solution to set. Which enzyme did you immobilise though? Well that's easy, I know that from the iodine stains you were testing for starch and the enzyme that catalyses the hydrolysis of starch is of course amylase. So the practical you have just been doing in double biology was testing the effect of immobilisation of amylase. How do I know it was a double lesson? Using the iodine is the final stage of the experiment so you must have finished it and such an investigation takes time, plus you're a perfectionist so you want to get it right, therefore it would have taken you at least two hours to complete." Sherlock relayed barely pausing for a breath. "Now, in regard to your character, your many split end show that you usually pay little attention to your hair as you care more about your work than your appearance. However it is clear that you have tried to style it recently, which is interesting."

"Ok Sherlock, I think that's enough now, don't you?" Lestrade attempted to stop Sherlock before he took his deduction any further. His efforts though were futile, as Sherlock only proceeded to speak a little louder.

Meanwhile everyone else in the room was completely silent; totally entranced by Sherlock, eager to hear what he deduced next.

"Today you're wearing a coat of foundation, some blush, and mascara. The rash on your cheek indicates that you've had a reaction to the make-up though, so you are not used to it, and thus you must have taken to applying it only recently, so I imagine you must be attempting to impress someone. You keep rubbing the bracelet on your wrist, drawing constant attention to it, indicating it is very dear to you, and therefore most probably a gift. It could be a gift from a relative but I'd say more likely from a lover, based on the fact that you've gone to the trouble of wearing clothes today that specifically compliment the blue gems in the bracelet. It is obviously much too expensive to have been bought by someone around your own age; therefore it was evidently a gift from someone older. It's still in perfect condition so I'd say it was bought fairly recently, maybe in the past few days. But you haven't taken it off since, shown by the stiffness of the clasp, which I discovered when pulling you up to the front here. Oh yes, I'd say you are absolutely head over heels in love with him. A young girl like you is easily romanticised, you are naïve and easily led. You believe everything he says, but little do you know that his feelings aren't really reciprocated, he's only telling you what you want to hear so he can exploit your intelligence and your naivety to gain revenge on a certain enemy of his. You're nothing more than one of the many pawns in his chess game. But you don't have to be Leah; if you're strong enough you can end it now, before it goes too far."

"Right, well thanks for that Mr Holmes. But I really must be getting to maths now, we've got binomial expansion, my favourite," Leah announced, straightforwardly.

"Oh, I see," Sherlock realised. "You ought to be careful; binomial expansion can be dangerous you know."

"I know. That's why enjoy it so much." Leah told him with a smile, before turning to leave the assembly hall.

* * *

><p>"What the hell was that back there?" Lestrade hissed at Sherlock as they left the school auditorium.<p>

"As I said before I began, it was merely a demonstration of the Science of Deduction," Sherlock told him matter-of-factly.

"That was a not a demonstration, that was a bloody display, and a cruel one too. That girl is only 18 years old and you tore her to shreds in front of her classmates. Not only that, she's the one student in that room who has heavy involvement in our current case. That was unprofessional, and completely unacceptable," Lestrade ripped into Sherlock. "I knew I should never have trusted you to actually behave for once."

"And to be fair, it was hardly a deduction, seeing as you were already aware of many of those things about her," John quipped in with, as he hobbled along behind Lestrade and Sherlock who were racing on ahead of him.

Sherlock threw a quick but piercing glare in John's direction before returning his attention back to Lestrade. "As you said, she's 18, which makes her an adult, and thus not as vulnerable as you're making out. And besides, she's stronger and smarter than you think. Much, much smarter, in fact. I needed to demonstrate on her as a way of warning her about Moriarty and what he's doing," Sherlock explained.

"Which is why you were so eager to do the talk," Lestrade stated, understanding at last.

Sherlock nodded.

"Did you really have to do it in a middle of an assembly, though?" John asked.

"It would be too obvious if I cornered her on her own, and besides the only time Moriarty isn't tailing her is in assembly when he has to take registration for his own tutor group. Twenty minutes is only a short window, so he thinks that it's harmless. But it was just enough time for me," Sherlock continued.

"Surely it wasn't as she didn't seem to take any notice of you at all," Lestrade argued.

"Oh she took notice, but she already knew. She's known what he's been up to since practically from the beginning. Clever girl indeed."

"What?" John asked incredulously.

"How could she possibly know?" Lestrade added.

"She worked it out. She's the one that's been playing him. And now she's got a plan, some sort of sting operation I suspect," Sherlock explained.

"Plan? What sort of plan?" Lestrade inquired, still desperately trying to digest what he was being told.

"She didn't reveal the details," Sherlock began.

"She didn't reveal anything," John interjected. "We were in there too, you know."

"Yes, but you just weren't listening," Sherlock stated.

"Well go on then, tell us you know she's got some master plan up he sleeve then," John said.

"The theorem, John!" Sherlock boomed excitedly.

"What theorem?" John inquired further as he struggled to open the door, which Sherlock had let shut behind him as he left the school.

"Oh, for God's Sake, Sherlock, get on with it and give us the whole explanation. I haven't got all day," Lestrade shot in.

"Moriarty wrote _A Treatise on the Binomial Theorem_," Sherlock revealed.

"Oh, of course he did," Lestrade commented as he rolled his eyes.

"Which is why Leah told me she was going to do binomial expansion this afternoon," Sherlock continued.

"Probably a ridiculous question, but how can you be sure that she wasn't just going to do binomial expansion?" John asked.

"You're right, it is a ridiculous question," Sherlock replied. "She's doing her A-Levels currently, and binomial expansion is too simple a topic for A2 Maths; she would have mostly likely studied it last year for her AS exams."

"Right, I see," John said, raising his eyebrows slightly.

"It was a coded way of telling me that she knows the real identity of her Chemistry teacher," Sherlock told them.

"And that's she on to him," John added.

"Exactly!" Sherlock exclaimed, turning round dramatically to face John as he did so.

"So we're just going to stand back and let an 18 year-old school girl take on the world's greatest criminal mastermind based on the fact that she lied to you about what she was doing in her Maths lesson," Lestrade clarified sceptically.

"I really wish you would stop calling him that." Sherlock said, pouting.

"I'm not really sure I'm comfortable with just letting her get on with it," Lestrade told him.

"Why not? She's already proved how perfectly capable she is," Sherlock argued defensively.

"Maybe, but we don't even know what she's going to do; she might be putting herself in danger," John worried, still struggling to keep up with the conversation as well as with the pace of the pair who were striding ahead.

"And if she wants to do that, then it is entirely her decision. Just before she left I warned her, and you heard her say that she loves such danger," Sherlock reminded them of the final exchange between himself and Leah during the assembly.

"Hmmm, so she enjoys the thrill of the chase. Sounds familiar," John murmured.

"I'm not sure about this, it doesn't seem right," Lestrade voiced his concerns.

"You trust me don't you?" Sherlock turned to face Lestrade as he asked the question.

"Well, yes," he replied.

"And you know I'll get the job done?" Sherlock prompted.

"Yeah, I mean you usually do," Lestrade said.

"I always get the job done," Sherlock corrected him. "Therefore, you should trust Leah too."

"But she's not you, Sherlock." Lestrade stated with a heavy sigh.

"Yes, but you heard Moriarty say it yourself that she's pretty close in comparison."

"But if it doesn't work out…" Lestrade started.

"Then I will of course succumb to Moriarty's demands," Sherlock confirmed.

"Right, well good," Lestrade said with a nod. "I'll see you back at the station in about an hour or so then to discuss matters further."

"Yes ok," John established.

"But in the meantime enjoy your lunchtime date," Sherlock told him, demonstrating his deducting skills once again.

Lestrade simply shook his head in response as he walked away from Sherlock,-who had just waved down a cab in the street-and back towards the school entrance.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Well that was fun wasn't it? Until next time…


	9. Chapter Nine: Desires

**Chapter Nine: Desires**

**A/N:** Just so you know, it's midnight where we are right now, and we have school tomorrow. But we've stayed up to finish this chapter, so you better appreciate it! We hope it's worth it, and you enjoy reading it as much as we enjoyed writing it. A lot certainly happens, that's for sure!

**Disclaimer: **We're way too tired to come up with anything witty to say here, so, yeah, we don't own anything, ok.

* * *

><p>"Well look who it is," Moriarty called out as he spun round from the whiteboard to greet Leah, who had just entered his classroom.<p>

"Hey," she said as she took a seat on the edge of his desk.

"So, to what do I owe this pleasure?" Moriarty asked, flashing his trademark grin.

"Do I need a reason to see you?" she asked coyly, looking up at him through her batting eyelashes.

"No not at all my love. It's just I was wondering whether your visit had anything to do with that nasty Sherlock who came to see us. Because you know, you mustn't listen to anything he's got to say. He's an old friend of mine from university. We like to tease each other, it's quite sweet actually. Anyway, he came in to do that talk and thought he'd pay me a visit on his way in, for old time's sake. I haven't seen him in years, but he hasn't changed a bit; he's still the same old card that he was before. It was a real blast from the past, actually. Anyway, what did he say to you, sweetheart? Nothing too horrible I hope; he can get a little carried away sometimes," Moriarty asked.

"Not much, he just deduced that I was a genius, and he was going on about how he had worked it out before you arrived," Leah lied.

"Ah, I see. Showing off like usual then. That's the thing with our Sherlock; he's always got to be the centre of attention." Moriarty shook his head and widened his eyes.

Leah hummed in agreement. "I actually came to see you to see if you want to meet up this afternoon. I've got just the place for us to go."

"But we're going out tonight, I'm taking you out to dinner remember," Moriarty reminded her.

"I know, but I can't wait that long, I need you right now," Leah said as she bit her lip.

"Ah now, come on, don't do this to me. You know I can't, not here. I could lose my job."

"Exactly, it's all about the risk, that's what makes it all the more exciting, don't you think?" Leah said, uncrossing her legs and leaning in towards him.

"Well as much as the prospect of ravishing you in some pokey cupboard delights me, I think it would perhaps be better if we waited until tonight," Moriarty dismissed.

"I disagree; I want you now, not later. So, it's now or never," Leah said, pouting.

"Oh really, is that how you're going to play it, you tease, you," Moriarty played along, shaking his head.

"Meet me in the councillor's office at the end of lunchtime. She's not in this afternoon, I've checked. So it'll be free, and it would be such a shame for us to miss an opportunity to make the most of an empty room."

"Well, seeing as you are so persuasive, and not to mention so impossible to resist, how could I possibly decline?" Moriarty relented.

"Good," Leah smiled, triumphant. "I'll see you later then."

She turned to leave the room, but before she shut the door behind her, she called out: "Oh, and sir,"

"Yes, Leah."

"Wear your lab coat," she told him with a wink.

* * *

><p>"Oh, Miss, there you are, I need to talk to you," Leah approached the school councillor, who was hurrying down the corridor.<p>

"Look, Leah, I can't talk right now, I'm on my way out for my lunch break," the councillor told her dismissively as she continued to walk on past.

"No I didn't mean right now; I was just hoping I could I maybe book an appointment with you for later on today, perhaps during last lesson as I've got a free period," Leah suggested.

"Uh, yeah sure," the councillor confirmed non-committedly, glancing at her watch as she did so. "Just come to my office at the beginning of last lesson then."

"Ok, thanks so much," Leah said.

The councillor nodded and then proceeded to stride out of the school before she was stopped once more by Leah, who called out: "Wait, miss!"

"What is it Leah? I'm in a hurry here, you know," the councillor sighed.

"Thank you, for everything. I appreciate all that you have done for me," Leah gushed as she caught up with the woman and leaned in to hug her, much to the councillor's surprise. The woman stood there awkwardly, arms stiffly at her sides, until Leah eventually broke away from the embrace.

"Right, um, ok, well that's no problem. I'll see you this afternoon, then," the councillor said before eventually managing to leave the school.

Leah watched her until the exit door had swung shut behind her. It was only then that she turned and walked in the direction of the councillor's office. She snuck in and placed the house keys, which she had extracted from the woman's bag, on the desk. It was just a precaution really, but Leah wasn't willing to let her plans fall apart as a result of a middle-aged woman's overbearing sex drive.

* * *

><p>"Sherlock, do you want a cup of tea?" John called out over the loud sound of Sherlock's violin, but received no reply. He walked into the lounge and repeated himself, only to find that he was deliberately ignoring him.<p>

"Sherlock!" John shouted, in an attempt to catch his attention, however he simply turned to face the window and continued playing his violin. John sighed and muttered: 'depressed again' to himself before returning to the kitchen.

"Hi!" Molly chimed, as she entered the flat. "I hope you don't mind, Mrs Hudson let me in," she explained as John greeted her. "I brought cupcakes! They're strawberry-flavoured. Neither of you are you are allergic to strawberry though, are you? I mean...if you are, don't worry…don't feel forced into eating them…I mean I wouldn't want you to make you ill or anything. Perhaps you just don't like strawberry, in which case; again…don't feel pressured into eating them. Maybe I should have gone with lemon…do you prefer lemon?"

"No, strawberry is perfect; I'm definitely not allergic to it," John said, chuckling at Molly's typically adorable behaviour.

"Oh good! It's just the only reason I ask is, well…it's because I once had this boyfriend actually…and I thought it might be fun to...you know, to experiment a bit more in the, er, bedroom, so…I bought these strawberry-flavoured condoms…but when we used one, it actually turned out that he was allergic to strawberries, and it gave him this horrible, sort of…rash. It was terrible really, he ended up dumping me not long after as a matter of fact. It was a shame as he was actually quite…" Molly rambled on, before Sherlock finally interrupted her.

"SHUT UP!" he suddenly boomed.

John gawped, surprised by the abrupt outburst. Molly merely dropped her head and whispered: "Right, yes, I'm so…sorry, Sherlock. I don't even know why I came…I just thought you might want cheering up…what with…what with John's foot. But it was a stu...such a stupid idea, I'll leave now."

"No, Molly! Stay, I haven't tried one of your cupcakes yet. Why don't we have one now? They look delicious. Ignore Sherlock; he's just upset because for once in his life he's being outdone by someone younger and prettier than himself."

"Don't be inappropriate John," Sherlock murmured.

"You're the one that pointed it out in the middle of an assembly!" John retaliated.

"Am…am I miss something here?" Molly interjected.

"As always, yes," Sherlock replied curtly.

"Oh do shut up Sherlock! Don't worry about him Molly, let's go and have a cup of tea and a cupcake, Sherlock doesn't deserve one," John reassured her as he led the way into the kitchen.

John filled Molly in on the Leah situation over the tea and cupcakes. As always, Molly listened carefully, taking it all in.

"Is that why Sherlock seems so…angry at the moment?" she asked.

"Yes, I think so. I am a bit worried about him actually, he does seem particularly vacant," John explained.

"Doesn't he always though?" Molly questioned.

"Yes, but it's different this time," John began in a hushed tone, "I think he's genuinely concerned by the whole thing. Moriarty knew exactly what he was doing when he chose Leah; it's really pushing Sherlock's buttons, what with her being intelligent just like him, and so young. I think it has brought back memories of his own his own childhood; I gather he was somewhat misunderstood. He sees a lot of himself in her; they are very similar in many ways, apart from the fact that she's obviously so much more vulnerable. As much as he'd hate to admit it, I think he really cares for her, and that scares him more than anything."

"Poor Sherlock," Molly said sympathetically, as she gripped her mug of tea.

"I think it would be a good idea for you to maybe talk to him actually," John suggested.

"What me? What would I say? He wouldn't listen to me," Molly said, cringing at the prospect of having to discuss this with Sherlock.

"I think he would listen to you Molly, in all honesty."

"No, don't be ridiculous John; he thinks I'm an idiot!"

"He thinks a lot more highly of you than you realise, Molly. Besides I met with Mycroft earlier today and he also seems to think he might pay more attention if it came from you," John admitted.

"Oh really, he said that? Well I suppose I could speak to him if you both really want me to, but I can't promise it will make things any better. It will probably make things worse knowing me."

"You underestimate yourself Molly, and you certainly underestimate what Sherlock thinks of you," John said reassuringly.

Molly nodded, and slowly walked into the lounge where Sherlock still stood playing his violin.

* * *

><p>"Well I hope this has been a better date than yesterday, I am really sorry about that," Lestrade said apologetically.<p>

"It has been nice, but it's a shame we can't finish off what we started last night," Carol said cheekily.

"We could always not go back to work this afternoon?" Lestrade suggested flirtatiously.

"I like that idea, it sounds naughty. We could go back to mine before the kids get home from school," Carol offered.

"Ok then. If you insist, I'll get the bill now," Lestrade said, and began eagerly scanning the room in search of their waiter.

* * *

><p>Molly cleared her throat loudly. Sherlock ignored her. So she cleared her throat again, this time a little more loudly. He ignored her again.<p>

"Sherlock! Put that violin down and talk to me," Molly exclaimed, frustrated that he was deliberately blanking her.

Sherlock withdrew his bow from the violin strings instantly, surprised by Molly's sudden fiery outburst.

"I don't want to talk," Sherlock replied sulkily.

"In all honesty, I don't really want to talk to you either, but John wants us to, and as he is such a good friend to both of us, I think the least we can do is humour him," Molly told him authoritatively She had no idea where her new-found confidence had come from; perhaps it was because this was the first time she'd seen Sherlock truly exposed, or perhaps it was just something in the cupcakes. Either way, she was just going with it and making the most of it while it lasted.

"John, of course, why must he always feel the need to talk?" Sherlock sighed in exasperation.

"Because he cares about you that's why, and as a matter of fact, so do I," Molly revealed, and instantly regretted doing so as soon as the words left her mouth.

"I know," Sherlock merely stated. "But you shouldn't; not caring is much more effective, trust me."

"And you'd know, wouldn't you Sherlock?" Molly pushed him.

"Yes, as I've explained many times, caring is not an advantage, ever," Sherlock told her, not noticing the edge of sarcasm to her tone.

"Except that doesn't always stop you from doing so does it?" Molly quipped.

"I beg your pardon," Sherlock said in disbelief.

"I know that you care. You care about John, and Lestrade, and Mrs Hudson, otherwise you wouldn't have done what you did that day of the fall. Surely you must know that I know that. I was there the day that you came to me to ask for help in order to save them. So don't stand there and lie to my face, Sherlock. I know you care, maybe not about the victims of crimes, or even about me, but you do care about some people, and I know you care about this Leah girl. You can deny it until your blue in the face but you do. I can see that from the way it's so obviously affected you."

"You're wrong!" Sherlock protested.

"No I'm not, Sherlock. You can see how similar she is to you, and for some reason that terrifies you," Molly argued.

"No, you're wrong about me not caring about you. I do care. I do believe it is a disadvantage, but you're right; that isn't always enough to stop me. If it had just been you that Moriarty had a hit-man on, I would have still done exactly the same thing."

"Don't…don't say things like that. Don't say things that you don't mean," Molly said quietly.

"I mean it Molly, I do care. If I didn't care about you, would I tell you the reason why I'm so worried about Leah is that I really hate to think that there is another me out there? That I don't wish it upon anyone to share my personality? That I'm terrified that she's going to grow up to be heartless and cold like me?" he told her, his voice failing him towards the end of his revelation; he was not used to opening up like this, with anyone.

Molly was taken aback. "But why, you're brilliant!"

"Yes, maybe, but I'm not liked am I, not really. I mean look at you, you're positively terrified of me most of the time. And if people aren't intimidated by me, they're jealous."

"But John…" Molly started.

"John puts up with me, but for how long? Soon enough he'll find a wife and abandon me to go and a have a family, and then I'll be alone again."

"You'll never be alone, Sherlock, not while I'm around," Molly whispered as she took a step closer to him.

"You don't mean that," Sherlock dismissed her claim.

"Yes, I do," Molly said.

"You'll do the same as John. You will go off, get married and forget all about me, which is really the best thing you could do," Sherlock said.

"I could never forget you, Sherlock. You're a good man, really, I know, which is why you use your brilliance to solve crimes, instead of use it to do what Moriarty does. And deep down I know that you're not heartless, otherwise why would you sympathise with Leah?"

Sherlock did not answer; he merely stared intently into her eyes. His gaze was so intense that Molly felt as though he was looking straight through her and into her thoughts. She felt bare, naked almost. She desperately wanted to break the stare, to look away, but there was something stopping her, something that she couldn't name. It was that same indescribable force that caused her to lean in towards Sherlock. The motion was involuntary; she hadn't even realised that she'd done it until she saw Sherlock's lips lining up with hers.

* * *

><p>Lestrade strode briskly back to where his car was parked, leaving Carol trailing behind almost unable to keep up with his fast pace. He quickly jumped into the driver's seat and started the engine, impatient to get to Carol's house.<p>

"You seem keen," Carol giggled as she slid into the passenger seat.

"Well I am looking forward to picking up where we left off from," Lestrade agreed, almost jumping a red light in his haste.

"The children won't be home until three, so we have a few hours to ourselves," Carol said seductively. On hearing this Lestrade stopped abruptly, opened his door and placed his sirens onto his rooftop and switched it on, causing them to sound loudly and the lights to flash. He hurriedly got back into the car, and sped away from the side of the road. Traffic began to move out of his way, as he sped through the streets of London and arrived at Carol's house in record time.

"I hope you're not that fast when we finally get into the bedroom!" Carol joked.

Lestrade laughed loudly but then silenced suddenly and stated: "No." He abruptly switched off the engine and stepped of the car.

Carol fumbled around eagerly in her bag, as she began walking up the drive towards her front door. She paused as she realised her house keys were missing, before turning to face Lestrade. "Oh my God Greg, I think I must have left my keys at work. I don't believe this!"

"You're joking, right?" Lestrade asked.

"No, they must still be on my desk in the office," she said, shaking her head.

"Well, we could just, you know, do it here?" Lestrade suggested sheepishly.

"What, you mean in the car?"

"Well, yes. The seats go back,"

"Don't be ridiculous Greg; I'm not some sort of cheap hooker!"

"No, no of course not," Lestrade quickly said.

"We'll just have to drive back and get them," Carol replied, turning to go back to the car.

"Ok, that's no problem," Lestrade agreed, trying desperately to hide his disappointment.

* * *

><p>Leah led across the councillor's desk, waiting for Moriarty to arrive. She undid the top button of her shirt, deciding to leave the rest for him to undo himself. On hearing a quiet knock at the door she called: "Come in!" and smiled as he entered the office, and took in her seductive pose.<p>

As he began walking towards her, she sat up to perch on the edge of the desk, and reached forward to pull on the collar of Moriarty's lab coat to bring him closer to her.

He grinned. "Well, well, we are eager, aren't we?"

Leah didn't answer; instead she began kissing him furiously. She took his hand and placed it on her thigh as she ran her fingers through his hair. She then broke away from the kiss suddenly and ordered: "Rip off my shirt!"

"What?" Moriarty exclaimed.

"Do as I say, and rip it off," Leah repeated.

"So, I see you can be quite dominant when you want to be to be then, not at all like the little mouse persona that you give off in class," Moriarty noted.

"You get to boss me around all the time in my lessons, so now is my chance to have you do as I say. So I won't ask you again. Rip. Off. My. Shirt," she told him, enunciating each word of her order separately.

"Well, if you insist, Miss Conrad," Moriarty surrendered as he tugged at the material of her shirt roughly so that buttons popped off and scattered across the floor. He then moved his attention to below her waist. He started to pull her tights, gliding them slowly from her legs. He then moved his hands across her bare skin, working his way up, before Leah suddenly shouted: "Wait!"

"What is it?" Moriarty asked.

"Maybe we shouldn't," Leah said, glancing nervously at the clock in the corner of the room.

"What do you mean? You were the one who insisted we do this! So don't tell me stop just when I'm getting into it," Moriarty cried furiously.

"But…" Leah began.

"But nothing! Now, just shut up and let me fuck you, and stop being such a little a pricktease!" he shouted at her.

She squirmed as his hold on her became much tighter, and the look in his eyes turned from tender longing to just plain hungry lust.

* * *

><p>Lestrade pulled up outside the school where Carol worked, and turned off the engine.<p>

"I'll just wait for you here then," Lestrade said.

"You could always come with me, I was thinking we could maybe start things off in the office," Carol suggested, leaning in towards him as she said it.

"Oh well, yes, if you think its ok."

"Oh yes, it's fine, I would just be doing paperwork this afternoon, so no-one will be there. It's all about the risk anyway, isn't it?" she reassured him.

"Oh well, if you're sure it's fine," Lestrade agreed, already beginning to get out of the car.

They began making their way into the school, and were on their way up the stairs when Carol suddenly stopped.

"What is it?" Lestrade questioned, worried.

"I've just remembered I was supposed to see a student this afternoon. It's fine though, I can easily get rid of her, she's just an attention seeking girl. She doesn't really need my help," Carol explained as she continued up the stairs.

A look of relief spread across Lestrade's face. The pair approached her office and Carol smiled at him cheekily before opening the door.

"Stop it, get off…" Leah wailed.

Then there was silence.

"Oh My God! Get off of her!" Lestrade screamed at Moriarty before pulling him away from her himself.

Carol stood in the doorway, her hands clasped across her mouth. She was trembling as she stuttered: "Leah, I'm so…sorry, you were right…oh my…I'm just so sorry!"

"Ok," Moriarty said, throwing his hands up in the air. "There seems to have been some sort of misunderstanding, here."

"Oh really, well try and understand this," Lestrade spat out before throwing a punch at the side of Moriarty's face, causing him to stumble backwards and fall to the floor.

Lestrade shook the pain away from his right fist before reaching for his phone to call, first his team back at the station, and then Sherlock.

* * *

><p>Sherlock gently brushed the side of Molly's face, as she closed her eyes and parted her lips.<p>

"Sherlock, it's Lestra…" John announced as he entered the room, only to walk in on the unexpected scene between the pair.

Sherlock drew away from Molly immediately and briskly walked over to John and swiped the phone from his hands.

"Lestrade!" Sherlock called down the receiver.

John looked to Molly, questioningly, but she avoided his gaze, turning to look out of the window instead.

"Get down to the school, now," Lestrade ordered. Sherlock did not respond; but ended the call immediately.

"Come on John, we're going back to the school," Sherlock summoned his assistant.

"Oh, right, ok. Well, looks like I'm off then, so goodbye Molly," John said, squeezing her shoulder.

"Oh, ok, well…I'd better be going then too," she said as she scurried around, gathering her things before making a speedy exit from the flat.

Molly decided to walk home; her face was still burning from her encounter with Sherlock and she was fighting to hold back her tears, she felt like she could do with the fresh air. She kept going over and over what happened for the whole journey. She couldn't help feeling so angry towards Lestrade; perhaps if he hadn't of called then he might of actually… 'No don't be so ridiculous, Molly' she told herself 'he never would have gone through with it; it was a moment of madness. He soon would have realised and pulled away anyway.' She knew that, but of course she couldn't help hoping that she was wrong.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **There you have it, we told you a lot happened! So, the school councillor is Lestrade's girlfriend. A cyber high-five to anyone who figured that out! And there was finally some Sherlolly, as promised. We've nearly reached the end with this fic, but there should be one more chapter at least, where all the loose ends are tied up. But for now, goodnight!


	10. Chapter Ten: Consequences

**Chapter Ten: Consequences**

**A/N:** We started this story based on an idea we had obtained from our biology revision, and ironically, as we finish it we're coming up to the next set of our exams. For any of you wondering, we both got an A for the module that inspired this fic, which I think really confirms that writing fanfiction is beneficial to our education!

We know it's been a while since we've updated, but we've been busy not studying for those upcoming exams we just mentioned, and instead watching the new American Pie movie, which was hilarious, but admittedly overshadowed by the fight that broke out in the cinema during the film! Also, we've been giving a lot of consideration to getting a tattoo. We've decided to go for it and we are both getting one on our feet. Maybe drop us a review to say whether you think we should or not. Or, you could just tell us what you think of this story instead!

So here it is: the final instalment. We didn't really know how we were going to end this story until we started writing this final chapter, and we've ended up surprising ourselves! We hope you enjoy it.

**Disclaimer: **Sherlock has never, and will never, belong to us.

* * *

><p>"Let me talk to him," Sherlock requested.<p>

"You know I can't, Sherlock," Lestrade told him.

"Of course you can," Sherlock insisted.

"It's against police protocol," Lestrade tried.

"Most of what goes on in here is against police protocol, but that's never proved to be an obstacle before," Sherlock retorted.

"Yes, but this time it's different, Sherlock," Lestrade boomed in a raised voice. "This time it's Moriarty."

"Exactly! I know him better than anyone in here; better than you, and most certainly better than the incompetent interrogators that you've got in with him at the moment."

"I just don't think it would be a good idea for you to talk to him," Lestrade explained.

"Why not?" Sherlock asked.

"Because," Lestrade began, "I don't think it would be healthy for your…state of mind."

"Oh, I see," Sherlock said, as realisation dawned on him, "you've spoken to Mycroft."

Lestrade did not reply; he just pursed his lips indignantly.

"I assure you that I am of a sound mental state, and talking to Moriarty for five minutes will not cause me to plunge into depression and consequently lead me to a complete breakdown."

"Sherlock…" Lestrade began, but he was weakening.

"You know it would be the right thing to do," Sherlock told him.

"I don't see how it would help. We've got a solid case against him already; with the first-hand evidence we've got, he'd be lucky to get 10 years from a lenient judge. As hard as it may be for you to understand, for once, we don't actually need your input."

"Oh, come on Lestrade, don't be so naïve! I need to go in there to find out what he's planning. You've riled him, and that's dangerous. He's not going to just sit back and take his punishment. I need to go in there to try and find out what he is going to do as revenge."

"You don't know for sure that he's planning anything," Lestrade stated.

"Yes I do. I know him, remember, and I know that there is no way he is going to let me win this one," Sherlock explained.

"It's not always about winning, and it's not always about you. This isn't a game, Sherlock." Lestrade responded firmly.

"YES IT IS! It always is, for him," Sherlock cried.

Lestrade sighed in despair.

"You've got five minutes, that's it," Lestrade finally surrendered.

Sherlock grinned triumphantly and headed towards the interrogation room.

"But Sherlock," Lestrade called out after him, and Sherlock stopped but did not turn round. "Try not to get too caught up in the…game. It's not just about winning; it's about protecting the life of an 18 year-old girl, remember."

Sherlock nodded slightly before continuing in the direction of his destination. Lestrade exhaled deeply, before following him down the corridor towards the room where Moriarty was being held.

Sherlock stood staring through the one way mirror into the interrogation room where Moriarty sat, seemingly paying no attention to the interrogators questioning him. Growing impatient, he abruptly stormed into the room. "Get out" he ordered the police officers sat across the desk from the criminal.

"Excuse me!" one of the men said, shocked.

"I think you're the one who needs to leave; it's only police staff allowed in here," the fellow police officer told him as he began to usher Sherlock out of the room.

"Let him in. He has my permission, so just give him five minutes to talk to him privately," Lestrade ordered, as Sherlock pushed past the men as they begrudgingly got up to leave, and sat opposite Moriarty. He clasped his hands together and leaned in towards him so that the pair of them had direct eye contact.

"Hey Honey!" Moriarty trilled.

"Good evening," Sherlock replied, cautiously observing the man facing him.

"Nice of you to come in and pay me a visit," Moriarty said with a crooked grin.

"I felt it was the courteous thing to do," Sherlock replied politely.

"Sooo courteous of you," he reiterated sarcastically.

"It's a shame that things didn't work out the way you had planned," Sherlock prompted.

"Indeed, if it weren't for Leah's intervention, then we could be sat on the sofa together watching the _Eastenders_ repeat with a nice cup of tea," Moriarty said, "maybe even some biscuits too."

"But instead we're sat together in a box room in The Metropolitan Police Station sipping lukewarm water," Sherlock added.

"Tragic, really," Moriarty commented.

"You must be feeling upset, and angry," Sherlock said.

"Must I now?"

"Beaten by a teenage girl, not exactly good for the ego, is it?" Sherlock said, trying to antagonise Moriarty.

"I'll tell you what's not good for the ego: letting a teenage girl do your job for you, who turns out to be better at it than you," he stated. "Of course it was never really about her, though. She was insignificant, until you let her step into the limelight of course. And now she's consequently become the centre of my attention."

"You won't be able to get to her," Sherlock insisted, partly to himself.

"Are you quite sure about that?" Moriarty said, picking up on the hint of doubt in Sherlock's voice.

"You're going to jail, for a very long time."

"Probably."

"You failed," Sherlock stated.

"You failed," Moriarty repeated. "You failed to protect her."

"I will protect her now," Sherlock told him.

"You shouldn't have let her put herself in such a grave danger in the first place though, should you?"

Sherlock couldn't think of a reply, which was most unlike him.

"I never planned to let anything happen to her," Moriarty revealed.

"You brought her into this," Sherlock countered.

"Only as a distraction; you were the one that made her a main player in this game."

"It's not a game!"

"It's always a game, and you forget, Sherlock, that games can be dangerous, fatal even."

"What are you going to do to her?"

"It is such a shame," Moriarty began.

"What?" Sherlock inquired eagerly.

"Such a shame that such a pretty young thing had to die," Moriarty said, pouting.

"She's alive; I've just seen her writing her statement upstairs," Sherlock told him.

"She died the moment you let her walk out of that assembly," Moriarty stated sinisterly.

"Time's up, out you come," Lestrade interrupted.

"No!" Sherlock cried.

"Sherlock, you've had your five minutes, now out you come," Lestrade said assertively.

"But…" Sherlock began to protest.

"You heard the man, now follow orders like a good little boy and off you trot," Moriarty added.

"WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO TO HER?" Sherlock screamed, suddenly losing all composure and banging his fists against the desk that separated himself and Moriarty.

Moriarty leaned back abruptly and held up his hands in mock terror.

"That is enough, Sherlock," Lestrade said as he gripped Sherlock's upper arm and hauled him out of the room. "I knew I should have listened to Mycroft!"

"What the fuck were you doing in there?" Lestrade shouted, as he pulled Sherlock away from the room. "I thought you promised me you weren't going to have a breakdown?"

"I'm absolutely fine; I'm not having a breakdown," Sherlock claimed.

"Really! Well what the hell was that in there then?"

"I was merely adopting the same technique that the majority of your police officers use whilst questioning suspects," Sherlock said facetiously.

"You might have seen that on The Bill, but that's not how we work in here!"

"I don't watch television," Sherlock retorted.

"The Bill's not on anymore actually," John chipped on, suddenly appearing out of nowhere. He was ignored.

Lestrade gritted his teeth, and grasped the air in fury at Sherlock's arrogance. "Just leave now, will you, we can take it from here."

"Actually there is someone else I needed to see," Sherlock replied.

"Absolutely not," Lestrade replied instantly.

"It's extremely important," Sherlock asserted.

"Who is it?"

"Leah."

"No way."

"Why not?"

"I think you've caused enough damage for one day, don't you?" Lestrade said.

"She's not under police custody, so technically I am perfectly within my rights to see her," Sherlock argued.

"She's already traumatised, she definitely doesn't need to see you right now," Lestrade reasoned.

"Why don't we let her decide that for herself?" Sherlock suggested.

"Oh, for Christ's sake, Sherlock!" Lestrade cried out in despair.

"I'm going to see her, so tell me where she is," Sherlock demanded.

Lestrade gestured to the room she was in, before adding: "She's waiting in there while my officers try to get in contact with her parents."

Lestrade opened the office door and called out: "Leah there's someone here to see you, don't worry if you don't feel up to it right now, I can just tell him to go away?"

"Who is it?" she asked.

"It's Sherlock."

"Oh, that's fine, he can come in," Leah agreed.

Sherlock smiled his 'I told you so' grin at Lestrade, as he pushed past him and walked towards Leah. As he down next her she glanced up and smiled weakly at him, before averting her eyes and staring down at her lap.

"Why did you do it Leah?" Sherlock asked.

"Well, to save you of course," she stated simply.

"You didn't need to do that. I don't need protecting," he told her.

"I know that, but I wanted to."

"Why?"

"For once in my life I felt like I was actually doing something useful, not just solving equations and mixing chemicals. For once I was more than just the 'nerdy one' in my class."

"You shouldn't have done it, and what's more, I shouldn't have let you."

"It was my decision. Don't feel responsible for anything that may or may not happen as a result of it."

"So, you knew you would be in danger yet you still did what you did?"

"Yes. I told you I wanted to do something important. You're the world's only consulting detective and it would have been a great shame for you to have been…for people to no longer be able to utilise you talents."

"I would have found my way out of it."

"Would you? It's just to me, it seemed like you'd given up. Did you have a plan?"

"I would have thought of something, and even if I had handed myself over to Moriarty tonight I would have managed to escape."

"He'd have killed you, you know? Tortured you before, probably. I couldn't stand the thought of him doing that to you," Leah revealed as she talked into her lap; unable to look him directly in the eyes as she said it.

"You didn't have to protect me. I should have protected you." Sherlock said quietly, also looking away.

"I think you did need me too, actually, which is why I did it, and it's fine because now you've got the chance to protect me from him and his people," Leah said, managing a smile as she did so.

"I'll do my upmost to ensure nothing happens to you," Sherlock promised.

"I believe you, but should you not be able to for any reason, don't feel guilty. It was my own decision to do what I did and I accept the penalties," Leah tried to reassure him.

Sherlock remained silently, until he suddenly turned to Leah and asked: "Did you love him?"

Leah didn't respond.

"It's just the first time we met, you showed signs of attraction towards him when he walked in, which is why I find it so perplexing that you went to such great lengths to frame him like you did."

"The truth of the matter is he's a danger to himself. He'll be better off locked away. I did feel something for him, maybe it was love, maybe it wasn't. But I could still see that the way he acts and the things that he does are wrong and he shouldn't be allowed to continue," Leah explained, "and if either of you should defeat the other in your…game, then it should be you and not him."

"I see, so when did you first uncover his plans?"

"I researched him as soon as he came to the school as a new chemistry teacher. I thought it was strange when the initial Head of Science took early retirement in the middle of term, so I looked into his background. And I found out more than enough about him...and yourself, for that matter," Leah told him.

"Then what happened?" Sherlock asked, eager to get the whole story from Leah's point of view.

"He began flirting with me not long after he arrived. I reciprocated of course as part of my plan to appear as though I was hopelessly falling for him as so he wouldn't suspect that I was on to him. Meanwhile I was taking frequent trips to the counsellor to discuss his behaviour. Then it was just a case of waiting to see what he had planned. Of course, then he made me write the message to Mycroft, so I had a rough idea of what he had in store. I was aware that the threat regarding the CO2 was actually implausible, so I knew he must have some other plan to get you, and that my purpose was not only to be a courier; I knew that he was going to use me for something else. When you came to visit me in school I realised I had to move fast, so I put my plan into action. On my visits to the counsellor's office I often used to read the messages on her phone and by doing so, I found out she was dating Greg Lestrade, a Detective Inspector, which proved to be a useful connection. I looked in her diary to find out when they were next meeting up, which was lunchtime today. I pickpocketed her house keys from her bag. I knew she'd have to come back for them, so I was certain she would return to her office. I had been trying for ages to convince her that Moriarty was sexually abusing me, though in actual fact it was me who had been leading him on in that sense. Anyway, she wouldn't believe me; she needed to see it for herself, so I had to do something drastic. I seized the opportunity and invited Moriarty up to Carol's empty office, which was when I made my move. Ironically, he did start to get carried away, and I ended up resisting his advances, but Carol and her date arrived before he could do anything...bad. The timing really couldn't have been more perfect as it turned out."

"You couldn't be sure that they would get there in time, or even at all," Sherlock commented.

"But they did. I provided the evidence, so the plan worked."

"Yes, indeed it did," he said.

At that point Donovan entered the room and interrupted the pair, "Leah, your Dad's just touched down in Heathrow. He's on his way now to pick you up."

"Oh, was he visiting France? Trouy, I imagine," Sherlock asked.

"Yes actually, he was visiting some of his relatives. We used to live there, and most of our family still do. So, go on, how did you deduce that?" Leah inquired, with a grin.

"I noticed the charm on the bracelet that you were wearing in the lab. It is the coat of arms for Trouy, and it's too obscure a place to be a tourist attraction, so I assumed you must have been a local at some point, and bought it as a reminder of your hometown before you left."

"Correct, of course," Leah replied with a chuckle.

* * *

><p>"So do you think he planned it all along?" Molly asked as she tried to take in everything John had just told her on the phone about how Leah had set Moriarty up.<p>

"I'm not sure. I'm waiting here at the station at the moment. Lestrade says Sherlock's in talking with Leah now," John said.

"Well this is such a shock," Molly said, still attempting to process all the information.

"Hmm it is," John agreed. "Anyway how are you Molly? What was happening between you and Sherlock in the flat earlier?"

"Oh, it was nothing really," Molly insisted, though she hoped it wasn't true. "We were talking, things got a bit intense and we were both caught up in the moment. I really don't think Sherlock realised what he was doing."

"Well, it didn't look like nothing," John told her.

"Yes, but I think even if you hadn't interrupted, he would have soon realised what he was doing and...withdrawn."

"You don't know that Molly, I think the two of you should at least discuss it. Why don't you come down to the station and meet us? He has a really tough day, what with all this business with Leah, he really needs someone here with him and he won't talk to me...not about this, anyway."

"I'm not sure he'd want to talk to me."

"He trusts you Molly, and I'm sure he'd appreciate it if you came."

"John, in all honesty, do you think that I should try and discuss what happened with him? I don't want to stress him out even more."

"I think you should, you both need to let each other know how you feel. The longer you leave it, the harder it will be to talk about it."

"I suppose you're right. If you think it's a good idea I'll come down to the station and see him now."

"Yes, come down now."

"Ok, I'll be there as soon as possible. And thanks for your advice John, I really appreciate it."

"Don't mention it Molly, see you soon."

* * *

><p>"Is Leah ok?" Carol asked Lestrade from his office chair.<p>

"Yeah, she's fine. I don't know how she'll be after Sherlock's done talking to her though," Lestrade told her.

"Oh, is he with her now, then?" Carol asked.

"Yes, he insisted."

"Oh God, Greg, I just feel terrible," Carol said, her head in her hands.

"Don't, it's not your fault," Lestrade tried to reassure her.

"I should have believed her. Why did I doubt her?" Carol wailed.

"Anyone in your position would have doubted her; Moriarty had tampered with all her school records to make her seem like a compulsive liar. Don't blame yourself," Lestrade tried to calm Carol down.

"But I just keep thinking, what if it was one of my girls…" Carol started, before bursting into hysterical tears.

Lestrade awkwardly rubbed his girlfriend's back in an attempt to soothe her. "Look, without giving away too much here, all I can say is that Leah knew exactly what she was doing, and what she was getting herself into. There was really nothing you could have done to stop it. Besides, we arrived just in time, so stop torturing yourself," Lestrade explained.

"What do you me...ean?" Carol asked through sobs.

"I can't give you any more details, but all you need to know is that none of this is your fault; you just got caught up in the middle of someone else's twisted game. Please believe me, love, I can't stand seeing you this upset," Lestrade pleaded.

"So, I couldn't have prevented it anyway?" Carol said with a sniffle.

"You couldn't have prevented it anyway," Lestrade confirmed.

"Oh Greg," Carol exclaimed, rubbing her eyes, "that is such a relief!"

* * *

><p>"Leah," Donovan called out as she opened the door to the room which Leah and Sherlock were currently occupying. "I've just spoken to your Dad on the phone, and he's waiting outside. Do you want me to take you downstairs?"<p>

"No, it's fine, I'll manage," Leah told her.

"Ok then, well the lift's at the end of the corridor," Donovan pointed behind her.

"Yes, ok," Leah said. "Bye then, Sherlock."

"Goodbye Leah," he said. Just before the door shut behind her, Sherlock called out. "I won't let anything happen to you, I promise."

* * *

><p>Molly drummed her fingers against her thigh nervously as she sat in the back of the cab which was quickly approaching the police station. 'Now just calm down' she thought to herself, her heart began to race as she glanced out of the window and realised she was less than five minutes away from her destination. 'It's going to be fine', she reassured herself. Molly let her mind wander and began to imagine the scenario that awaited her. She imagined herself approaching Sherlock and smiling at him reassuringly, she then imagined herself beginning to explain her feelings to him: 'Sherlock, about earlier on today. The thing is I just wanted to talk to you about what happen earlier on today, you know the thing where we…well we didn't actually…but we nearly…we almost…you know…It's just you know that I…well I like you…but you already know that, of course, because of what happened at Christmas. But I always thought that you…didn't look at me that way…because well you're so… well…you're so mean to me…well no not mean….just unfriendly sometimes…which is fine because that's just the way you are. But the thing I wanted to ask you was…well because…you know... you…um…almost kissed me…well maybe you weren't going to kiss me…maybe you were just going to wipe something off my face…but I just wanted to ask you why you did that.' "Why Sherlock, why?" Molly suddenly shouted out loud unintentionally.<p>

"Sorry, what was that love?" the taxi driver asked, turning his head to face Molly with a confused expression.

"Oh nothing, I didn't mean…I wasn't…I wasn't actually talking to you," Molly explained sheepishly.

The taxi pulled up outside the station, and Molly paid the taxi driver and gave him a generous tip. She stepped out of the cab and slowly began approaching the station, before pausing and taking a moment to regain her composure.

* * *

><p>"Greg, hold me," Carol pleaded dramatically.<p>

Lestrade did as ordered and embraced Carol tightly. He stroked her hair and whispered, "Everything's going to be ok, you've got me now, and I'm here for you."

"Oh Greg, you don't know how much that means to me," Carol said, beginning to well up all over again.

"I really think we could make a go of this, you know. I know this might sound a bit soppy, but I've really fallen hard for you Carol," Lestrade revealed, unwilling to even take into consideration the claims that Sherlock had previously made about Carol's ill intentions.

"Take me!" Carol exclaimed.

"What?" Lestrade called out.

"Right here, on your desk," Carol declared.

"Umm, well…it might not be…" Lestrade trailed off as he felt Carol's hand glide down his shirt towards his belt buckle.

"Shhh, Greg, don't talk, just make love to me!" Carol ordered.

"Ummm, ok then!" Lestrade quickly gave in.

* * *

><p>Leah pressed the call button for the lift. It arrived quickly, and she stepped inside and pressed 'G' for ground floor. The doors shut in front of her.<p>

* * *

><p>Moriarty stood in the middle of his police cell, released from interrogation at last. His hands were in his pockets and a grin was plastered across his face. He began counting down aloud: "3…2…1…BOOM!"<p>

* * *

><p>Molly went to open the door to the police station, but as she did so, she found herself jolt backwards as the floor shook beneath her feet.<p>

* * *

><p>Lestrade began fumbling with the buttons on Carol's blouse, desperately trying to undress her, when suddenly the desk moved from between them as the impact hit the room and the pair tumbled to the floor.<p>

* * *

><p>John was sat, twiddling his thumbs, on a chair in the corridor until he was hurled forward by the explosion, and slammed into the wall in front of him.<p>

* * *

><p>Sherlock remained sat in the waiting room after Leah had left, his elbows on his knees, and his palms pressed together. Then he heard it: the sound of a bomb going off, the sound that left his ears ringing, and his limbs shaking. The sound of death.<p>

* * *

><p>Leah stood in the lift, waiting for it to start going down, when she began to hear a noise. 'Beep…beep…beep'. She turned round to see where it was coming from. The detonator attached to the block of Semtex in the corner of the lift by the looks of it.<p>

The beeps stopped.

Leah closed her eyes.

'BOOM!'

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **The end! It turned out to be quite dramatic, didn't it? We put a lot into this story, so thank you for taking the time to read it. We hope you liked reading it as much as we did writing it. We're quite sad that it's all over now, but it was certainly fun while it lasted!

Goodbye, for now.


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